Lyrics:
Dogg, I'm on the mic, I'm back with Dr. Dre
But this time, I'ma hit your ass with a touch
To leave motherfuckers in a daze, fucked up
So sit back,
than Berry Boss so check the golden child,
throwing it to your ear-hole, got you going buck wild.
But truck-tracks, rhymes all day, breaking off niggaz
dey tell me record
Touching herself while your busy at work
She's a savage boy, what u expect ?
She's a savage boy, what you expect ?
Her favorite
the shimmy
I remenices on the days, they questioned me like""Who is he""?
It's okay, you know J, your records gettin' no play
Watch me in the booth going in
size up your body
And put some white chalk around it
Let's talk about the fact you actually blackballed a rapper
That's twice as young as you (let's
bottoms bad bitch she red hot
You more ready than me put your money on that a rack I bet not
I set shop where that moula be watch me shine no jewelry
Don't let no body fuck up your high
Father, I lift up my son
I lift up anyone that travels with him and by his speed I pray that you go ahead of him
scarred by a revolv'
With no warnin' signs, 'cause yo my man took five
Now I'm the young one with the nine, ready to put in my time
Shoot first, look
records as well
Nas, the alleged ring leader of it, is furious at Tupac
Excuse me Makaveli's verbal a**ault
On Mobb Sleep, Notorious B.I.G. and several
First, the DJ must power up the amplifiers.
To play a record, select an album and put it on the turntable.
The racer must attach five dollars
Here it is, here it comes, it's another one
(Blam) put up your big guns
(Blam) , cover your eardrums (Blam, blam)
Here it is, here it comes, it's another
and you'll find
You are
They are
We are
Youtiful
You are
They are
We are
Youtiful
You can re-record your inner voices
And one by one
Shuck away those negative
your rights
Sex sells, strife turns record profits
I turn records off with disdain
Listening to kids with brains
Who switched lanes, ‘cause spitting
chips further and further
As if your chance at happiness was trumped by the need to be an earner
Do it over and over, no chance to rest
It all happens so
like a quarter a mil
Hit ya by the tech and blow half your budget
I do it for the streets and **** love it
Just copped the new Bent, you know ya boy pay
that are giving them props and learn
If you wanna earn your stripes
You gotta be able to rock this mic and set cyphers alike
The feeling to put in
walkin'
Make your eyes jump out the sockets
She got money out of all my pockets
Wiggle then move
(Wiggle then move)
Wiggle then move
(Wiggle then
I'd rather put out a motherfuckin' Gospel record
I'd rather be a pussy-whipped bitch, eat pussy
And have pussy lips glued to my face
With a clit ring
figures (yup)
Spit 30 large for cigars of you hoe niggas (oww!)
I got gangstas that'll rearrange ya whole face
And put your casket on ice, now that's
metals round our necks and arms (yea)
We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods
Whatever in your heart is where you want to be
My hood is
somethin' to say, make space
Who said this town's yours
I can't relate, still swayed
Now you all my sons
That play-by-play by me goes crazy
Go 'head, count
life
Wanna put you in my life baby, in my life
When the alcohol hit the system
There is not telling if I’m leaving with these girls
I’m a pimp by blood
I
song”
But we eased it right on by, yes, we did
And it became one of my biggest records too
So I want you to do this for me if you will
Everybody think
covered up their wounded knee
To put the record on repeat
It's scaring me
Atrocities will follow me across the beat with no relief
Try to fall asleep by
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