Lyrics:
Oh, do you feel me? Facts, what I'm still on
And I still got racks, I'm a real don
And we used to bang your shit
Now you're album, it's just
Gotta blink to prove
I don’t need no help
Don’t need a boost
Bitch I got juice
Kill em
Chuck the deuce
That’s just what I do
Terror in the night
By the time you hear this song
It's gon be too late
The album been done dropped
You gotta listen to what I gotta say
Gunshots ringing off in
dangerous when you took it
Whattup it's the big boss Dogg
Snoop D-O-double-G, Eastside L.B.C.
And I'm bobbin to the beat of my O.G. homeboy Ice Cube
a show, bitch I should pinch off a fee
You used to flow 'bout goofy shit
Met a G and got on some groupie shit
A slave to my rap page, student under my
it rebuilt/
But I aint got a dime/
Im going through some hard times/
I aint lyin/
(Chorus)
(Verse 2)
You know s**t get rough/
Every year around
[Greg Nice]
G-O-L-D gold and I've been told
It's too hot to hold you can get it sold
In the summer heat in the winter cold
Fourteen karat gold won't
the headlights
Bout to let it shine
Find your ass in there tip-toeing
Your ass is mine
We got you waitin' for us on the radio
So our albums can drop
Snoop,
what that mail like
Po-Po's want to quiet me
Cause I was tearin' up shit like the mothafuckin' liar G
Wax and Tat's from my nigga Andrew Jackson
the headlights
Bout to let it shine
Find your ass in there tip-toeing
Your ass is mine
We got you waitin' for us on the radio
So our albums can drop
Snoop,
Yeah, it's CMG the album, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?
History
You ain't never seen this many gangsters in the same squad
You never seen this
The damn Jackson's
And my dawgs big steppas
They be stepping up
Heads up
May 7th
And that Sevens Up
Sevens
Put my heart in, Got the best of it
Sevens
May be
muthafuckas know my name B-A-N-K-$
Cut-clack
The young guerrilla out the clicks, baow
G-Unit’s runnin' this shit, blap
As a matter of fact, I smell a rat
You
b
Shoot your shots my g
Shoot your shots my g
Shoot your shots my g
And if you get an L
Oh well
You have another story to tell
Shoot your
[Hook]
I sprained my ankle
Chasing paper dawg
I sprained my ankle
By chasing that chedda cheese
Gotta get them tickets
My nigga I'm Chuck E.
the Nineteen Naughty Nine MC
Microphone controller, master of ceremonies
So remember why you hate me
I'm Naughty By Nature you're Severed By
Young nigga hit juugs with that dirty stick
Watch me scrap the pot
(skurt) with that dirty stick
She a bad bitch, finesse you, now she dirty
Bitch oh
Cues in you dome and across the globe
Thank you Jackson Green for being my first guest
To be honest I was stressed and really really nervous
But he
did before, man
This the music business, man. You're only as hot as your last hit
Everybody like, "Yo, can he get another ring?"
100 million
here it is at your service
The b the I the g the d-a-double-d-y
And when it comes to rippin' the mic, oh my oh my oh my
I guarantee you by time I'm
Like redneck or "got the blues"
That's where you apply colors to
Something else, you know, to come up with
What it is you're trying to say
So, there are
[Chorus]
5-1-0 and 2-1-3 is you a baller or a G?
Ha ha ha.
To thug or not to thug?
To G or not to G?
See that's the question.
Every time
Division and NOFX (what?)
Let's dissect this album called “Nevermind”
Produced by Butch Vig of Garbage not Sublime
Butch toured with U2, who wrote a song
reeborn , i told my older self to let me go
I took the mayonnaise cap off now you can't see me in the telescope
I'm up there with the stars
I got the ball
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