"And now, the wonderous world of.." "Hey, come to Los Angeles! You and your family can have peace and tranquility. Enjoy the refinement.." "Hey Bone, hey nigga where you at though?" "Hello, my name is Elaine And I'll be your tour guide through South Central Los Angeles"
How to survive in South Central (what you do?) A place where bustin a cap is fundamental No, you can't find the shit in a handbook Take a close look, at a rap crook Rule number one: get yourself a gun A nine in your ass'll be fine Keep it in your glove comparment Cause jackers (yo) they love to start shit Now if you're white you can trust the police But if you're black they ain't nothin but beasts Watch out for the kill Don't make a false move and keep your hands on the steering wheel And don't get smart Answer all questions, and that's your first lesson On stayin alive In South Central, yeah, that's how you survive
"Hi this is Elaine again. Are you enjoying your stay in South Central Los Angeles, Or is somebody taking your things? Have you witneesed a driveby? Okay, make sure you have your camcorder ready To witness the extracurricular activities on blacks by the police, So you and your family can enjoy this tape, over and over again." "This is Los Angeles." "This is Los Angeles."
Rule number two: don't trust nobody Especially a bitch, with a hooker's body Cause it ain't nuttin but a trap And females'll get jacked and kidnapped You'll wind up dead Just to be safe don't wear no blue or red Cause most niggaz get got In either L.A., Compton or Watts Pissed-off black human beings So I think you better skip the sight-seeing And if you're nuttin but a mark Make sure that you're in before dark But if you need some affection mate Make sure the bitch ain't a section eight Cause if so that's a monkey-wrench hoe And you won't survive in South Central
"Now you realize it's not all that it's cracked up to be. You realize that it's fucked up! It ain't nothin like the shit you saw on TV. Palm trees and blonde bitches? I'd advise to you to pack your shit and get the fuck on; Punk motherfucker!"
And you need your ass straight smoked Yo I want to say whassup to DJ Chilly Chill Sir Jinx, aiyyo Cube these motherfuckers don't know what time it is So show these motherfuckers what's happenin Tell these motherfuckers, don't fuck around in South Central God damnit!
Rule number three: don't get caught up Cause niggaz are doing anything that's thought up And they got a vice On everything from dope, to stolen merchandise We discern Cause South Central L.A., is one big yearn Waitin for a brother like you to catch a disease And start slangin ki's To an undercover or the wrong brother And they'll smother, a out of town motherfucker So don't take your life for granted Cause it's the craziest place on the planet In L.A. heroes don't fly through the sky of stars They live behind bars So everybody's doin a little dirt And it's the youngsters puttin in the most work So be alert and stay calm As you enter, the concrete Vietnam You say, the strong survive Shit, the strong even die, in South Central
Yeah you bitches, you think I forgot about your ass, You tramp-ass hoes? You better watch out. And for you so called baller-ass niggaz, You know what time it is. South Central ain't no joke. Got to keep your gat at all times motherfuckers. Better keep one in the chamber and nine in the clip god damnit. You'll sho' get got, just like that. This ain't no joke motherfuckers. Now I want to send a shout-out to E-Dog, the engineer, Puttin his two cents in..
Songwriters: JACKSON, O'SHEA / TROUTMAN, LARRY / TROUTMAN, ROGER / CLINTON, DONNA LYNN / DUNBAR, RONALD / CLINTON, GEORGE JR. / SPRADLEY, DAVID L. / CLINTON, GEORGE EVERETT III / STERLING, DONNIE RAY / WYNN, PHILIPPE / SHIDER, GARRY MARSHALL