I didn’t mean to join a gang; but I ain’t sayin' I didn’t decide.

I had to walk to Gompers Jr. High, through three different Crip hoods; and got tired of tryin' to hide.

So the homies said, “If you want to walk with us, you gotta, be down.”

It made sense to me, instead of gettin' beat, to the ground.


So I said, “Ok. How do I, get in?”

They said, “Don’t trip. That’s the easy part my friend.”

That’s when three “OG’s, Peabody, Speedy and Pop,

Started kikkin’-my-ass, in Ascension School’s parking lot.


BAM! To the chin. BAM! To the jaw; but I didn’t let them tear me apart.

After awhile they stopped; realizin' this nigga had heart.

They said, “Get up; you’re in. Now, brush yo-self off.”

While laughin' and shit, cause they liked how I fought.


So I started throwin’-up Lanes; and hangin’ that Red Flag.

I felt like James Brown; cause Poppa had a brand new bag.

That STILL didn’t make it easy. Bloods are out-numbered, 10 to 1.

But that didn’t matter, cause some of them niggas had a gun.


That lasted three years, now it’s time for high school.

Narbonne, in Harbor City, it was time to grow-up; and act cool.

Three more years, I graduated. Bangin’, I’m through.

But Blood is STILL in my heart; and to my dead homies I say “SOO-WOO!”