夜色鋪滿長街，霓虹像舊傷閃爍

我低頭穿過回聲，耳機(jī)里鼓點(diǎn)敲打脈搏

媽媽說要挺住，可房租把日歷撕破

夢想在槍口跳舞，鮮血把節(jié)拍染熱

Mary 的副歌在云端，替我落淚，替我活

Dre 的鋼琴像舊錄像帶，倒放我們被刪除的溫柔

我抬頭，把最后一枚硬幣投進(jìn)天空的 jukebox

讓這 message 在風(fēng)里旋轉(zhuǎn)——

“若你聽見我，請把拳頭換成花束，

在廢墟上，為自己獻(xiàn)上一束光。”

Yeah, still puffin’ on that chronic leaf,

Beats still bangin’ like a villain in the street.

Black ’64 swervin’ low, let the speakers blow,

Compton in my rearview, still runnin’ the show.

Cuban link swingin’, wrist still gleamin’ frost,

Counted all my blessings, never counted what I lost.

Dre back, scalp the game, let the bassline bleed,

Still D.R.E., bitch—legend’s all I ever need.