[Intro: Ant Banks]
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Ohh yeah, Oakland and Compton in the house
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Where the real riders ride
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And all the bitch-ass-niggas fall by the wayside
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Cities with no mourn for motherfucking haters and snitches
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Cause somebody told me it was all about money over bitches
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[Verse 1: MC Ren]
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These Record companies, they full of dykes like Da Brat
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Most bitches got AIDS; nigga, better use a hat
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All these niggas record deals, they tax write-offs
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I cant help these bitches, try to fuck I try to fight em off
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Got a heaven for a gangsters like the nigga Master P
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Where niggas trip, judge your bitches bring that ass to me
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These Ren hate niggas, got their contracts renewed
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Most niggas in the game they bit The Chronic they should get sued
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By my nigga Dre and Snoop for a while
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Nigga, Ren everywhere, like Puffy and God
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Im still that black nigga, my dick got bigger
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But aint you bitches tired of rapping about Glock triggers
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And Chronic, see that be them whack niggas yellin
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That “Gangsta Gangsta” shit still aint sellin
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Nigga who you tellin? Im the motherfucking shit
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Ren and Banks with another hit, ugh, ugh!
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[Chorus: MC Ren]
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Niggas all the same (All the same)
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Theres no money make us happy with the fame (with the fame)
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Nigga, Ill be checking out the game (out the game)
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Fuck that, all you bitches know my name (whats my name)
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Ugh, these niggas all the same (all the same)
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Theres no money make us happy with the fame (with the fame)
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Nigga, Ill be checking out the game (all the game)
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Fuck that, all you bitches know my name (whats my motherfucking name)
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[Verse 2: MC Ren]
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Every nigga in the game, is the same like OGs
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Broke niggas getting signed to these junkie companies “ugh”
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Niggas beefing without their niggas, shit dont be making sense
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All these motherfuckers lucky if theyre getting fifty cents
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Everytime the record sales, you must be breeze up your tales
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Theres some fucking going on, nigga tell me I aint wrong
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Where the players that he at nigga? theyre too old to rhyme
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Theres white motherfuckers wear suits counting every dime
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They give your ass on tour, a big home, a big house
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And a hive full of cheese so you can be acting like a mouse
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Ill give about five years, nigga, youll be broke
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Fucking fat bitches with a gang of stress to smoke
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Not enough to choke, youre full of “should have could have would have”
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With ass kissing niggas, taking from your bank figures
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Now youre stuck on stupid, cause you believed that hype
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Said fuck it when broke, you and your bitch hit the pipe
