[THX sound test]
[Lowrider jumping in the background]
[Interlude:]
[xzibit:] Goddamn! Hey whassup, nigga? Oh, shit!
[Trey Dee:] Whassup?
[xzibit:] Hey, that motherf*cker clean!
[Trey Dee:] Who was that?
[xzibit:] Hey, that's Dre, nigga, that's the... Look at that shit!
[Trey Dee:] Hangin' that motherf*cker!
[xzibit:] Look at that!
[Trey Dee:] GODDAMN!
[xzibit:] Hahahaha!
[Trey Dee:] That nigga chromed out up under that motherf*cker!
[xzibit:] Whooooooooooooooooooo-wwwwhhhhhooooooooooooooooooo!
[Trey Dee:] Hangin' on the bumper X!
[xzibit:] Hey, hang that shit!
[Trey Dee:] Whattup, Dr. Dre?
Dr Dre - 2001 Album Lyrics
Dr Dre - 2001 Lyrics
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Watcher
[Dr. Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas.
Times is changing, young niggas is aging,
Becoming old gees in the game and changing,
To make way for these new names and faces, but
The strangest things can happen from rappin, when
Niggas get wrapped up in image and actin,
Niggas get capped up and wrapped in plastic,
Zipped up in bags when it happens, that's it.
I've seen em come; I've watched em go,
Watched em rise, witnessed it and watched em blow.
Watched em up high, suddenly watched em grow.
Watched the lawsuits when they lost the dough.
Best friends and money: I lost them both.
Went, visited niggas in the hospital.
It's all the same shit all across the globe.
I just sit back and watch the show. (The watcher)
[Chorus:]
Everywhere that I go
Ain't the same as befo' (The watcher)
People I used to know
Just don't know me no more (The watcher)
But everywhere that I go
I got people I know (The watcher)
Who got people they know
So I suggest you lay low (I watch)
[Dr. Dre]
I moved out of the hood for good, you blame me?
Niggas ain't made me if niggas they can't be.
But niggas can't hit niggas they can't see.
I'm out of sight, now I'm out of they dang reach.
How would you feel if niggas wanted you killed?
You'd probably move to a new house on a new hill.
And choose a new spot if niggas wanted you shot,
I ain't a thug, how much Tupac in you, you got
I ain't no bitch neither.
It's either my life or your life,
And I ain't leaving, I like breathing.
Nigga we can go round for round,
Clip for clip, shit, fo'-pound for pound.
Nigga if you really want to take it there we can,
Just remember that you f*ckin with a family man.
I got a lot more to lose than you, remember that,
When you wanna come and fill these shoes. (The watcher)
[Chorus]
[Dr. Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas,
Cops is anxious to put niggas in handcuffs.
They wanna hang us, see us dead, enslave us,
Keep us trapped in the same place we're raised in.
Then they wonder why we act so outrageous,
Run around stressed out and pull out gauges.
Cause everytime you let the animal out cages,
It's dangerous to people who look like strangers.
But now we got a new era of gangstas,
Hustlers and youngsters livin amongst us.
Lookin at us, now callin us busters,
Can't help but reminisce back when it was us.
Nigga we started this gangsta shit.
And this the motherf*ckin thanks I get?
It's funny how time fly,
I'm just havin fun, just watchin it fly by. (The watcher)
[Chorus]
(The watcher)
Things just ain't the same for gangstas.
Times is changing, young niggas is aging,
Becoming old gees in the game and changing,
To make way for these new names and faces, but
The strangest things can happen from rappin, when
Niggas get wrapped up in image and actin,
Niggas get capped up and wrapped in plastic,
Zipped up in bags when it happens, that's it.
I've seen em come; I've watched em go,
Watched em rise, witnessed it and watched em blow.
Watched em up high, suddenly watched em grow.
Watched the lawsuits when they lost the dough.
Best friends and money: I lost them both.
Went, visited niggas in the hospital.
It's all the same shit all across the globe.
I just sit back and watch the show. (The watcher)
[Chorus:]
Everywhere that I go
Ain't the same as befo' (The watcher)
People I used to know
Just don't know me no more (The watcher)
But everywhere that I go
I got people I know (The watcher)
Who got people they know
So I suggest you lay low (I watch)
[Dr. Dre]
I moved out of the hood for good, you blame me?
Niggas ain't made me if niggas they can't be.
But niggas can't hit niggas they can't see.
I'm out of sight, now I'm out of they dang reach.
How would you feel if niggas wanted you killed?
You'd probably move to a new house on a new hill.
And choose a new spot if niggas wanted you shot,
I ain't a thug, how much Tupac in you, you got
I ain't no bitch neither.
It's either my life or your life,
And I ain't leaving, I like breathing.
Nigga we can go round for round,
Clip for clip, shit, fo'-pound for pound.
Nigga if you really want to take it there we can,
Just remember that you f*ckin with a family man.
I got a lot more to lose than you, remember that,
When you wanna come and fill these shoes. (The watcher)
[Chorus]
[Dr. Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas,
Cops is anxious to put niggas in handcuffs.
They wanna hang us, see us dead, enslave us,
Keep us trapped in the same place we're raised in.
Then they wonder why we act so outrageous,
Run around stressed out and pull out gauges.
Cause everytime you let the animal out cages,
It's dangerous to people who look like strangers.
But now we got a new era of gangstas,
Hustlers and youngsters livin amongst us.
Lookin at us, now callin us busters,
Can't help but reminisce back when it was us.
Nigga we started this gangsta shit.
And this the motherf*ckin thanks I get?
It's funny how time fly,
I'm just havin fun, just watchin it fly by. (The watcher)
[Chorus]
(The watcher)
Writer: MARSHALL MATHERS, ANDRE YOUNG
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
F*ck You
[answering machine girl]
Hi baby
I know your under a lot of pressure at your work and all
And I do understand
You have no idea how much I understand
But you also don't have any idea how much I love you
I love you so much
I think about you I feel you in my arms
I miss you.. I miss you terribly
I've just always wanted someone like you in my life
I love you so much; that I'd do anything
I'd do anything
I'll be your perfect woman for you
[Dr. Dre]
I just wanna f*ck bad bitches
All them nights I never had bitches
Now I'm all up in that ass bitches
Mad at 'cha boyfriend, aint 'cha?
You'se a bad girl, gotta spank ya
Gotta thank ya for that head clinic
Explicit, hella photogenic
And tell your friends where the dick's at
Where they can get hit and won't get back to they soulmate
Before you kiss 'em use Colgate
"She Swallowed It!" Yeah the bitch took the whole eight
and ran with it, then let Mel-Man hit it
and Hitman hit it; damn bitches
Man, this is what I'm talkin about
Chicken-head, chicken-fed, with a dick in your mouth
Out and about with your nigga like it never took place
(Airtouched) Next time you need a taste
[Chorus:]
I just wanna fuuuuuck you
No touchin and rubbin gul, you got a husband who
loves.. you..
Don't need you all in mine
I just wanna fuuuuuck you
We can't be kissin and huggin gul, you got a husband who
loves.. you..
You need to give him your quality time
[Devin the Dude]
You got the number, it's on you to make the call
You know I cum quick; help you re-decorate your walls
Cut your backyard, don't have to act hard to get the cock
And if I'm goin too far, I take it out and wipe it off
and put it back up, and keep going
You tryin to hide it from your husband but I know he be knowin
that your pussy's been tampered with
Then you show him the new trick of how you can lick it, smoke a cancer stick
You be workin it like a dancer bitch, it's hard on me
Not to give you all of my time, that you wanted
You can give me some head, but keep the breakfast in bed
I'd rather spend my mornin diggin through some records instead
But, tonight, I guess it'd be aight if we can touch bases
Hookup somewhere and exchange some "F*ck Faces"
I know your man's lookin for ya, he's always tryin to run ya
Don't worry bout me handcuffin gul cause I just wanna f*ck witchu
[Snoop Dogg]
.. f*ck witchu
On the sneak tip, on some creep shit
So whatcha gon' do, ya freak bitch?
You, actin, like you, don't, do, dicks
That's the kinda bitch I hate f*ckin wit
Baby was a virgin, that's what she said
So I gave her some Hennesey, she gave me some head
I f*cked her on the flo', so I wouldn't mess up my bed
Then Lil' 1/2 Dead put his dick on her head
Take that bitch home, and give her a bone
And give her the number to my cellular phone
Man, she blowin up my pager, the shit's gettin major
A favor for a favor, this dick is what I gave her
Somethin to go by, and bitches know why
Stuff dick in they mouth, and then I'm out (see-ya!)
Twenty-fo' seven, Dre, Snoop, and Devin
We servin' these hoes, and never lovin these hoes, beotch!
[Chorus]
Hi baby
I know your under a lot of pressure at your work and all
And I do understand
You have no idea how much I understand
But you also don't have any idea how much I love you
I love you so much
I think about you I feel you in my arms
I miss you.. I miss you terribly
I've just always wanted someone like you in my life
I love you so much; that I'd do anything
I'd do anything
I'll be your perfect woman for you
[Dr. Dre]
I just wanna f*ck bad bitches
All them nights I never had bitches
Now I'm all up in that ass bitches
Mad at 'cha boyfriend, aint 'cha?
You'se a bad girl, gotta spank ya
Gotta thank ya for that head clinic
Explicit, hella photogenic
And tell your friends where the dick's at
Where they can get hit and won't get back to they soulmate
Before you kiss 'em use Colgate
"She Swallowed It!" Yeah the bitch took the whole eight
and ran with it, then let Mel-Man hit it
and Hitman hit it; damn bitches
Man, this is what I'm talkin about
Chicken-head, chicken-fed, with a dick in your mouth
Out and about with your nigga like it never took place
(Airtouched) Next time you need a taste
[Chorus:]
I just wanna fuuuuuck you
No touchin and rubbin gul, you got a husband who
loves.. you..
Don't need you all in mine
I just wanna fuuuuuck you
We can't be kissin and huggin gul, you got a husband who
loves.. you..
You need to give him your quality time
[Devin the Dude]
You got the number, it's on you to make the call
You know I cum quick; help you re-decorate your walls
Cut your backyard, don't have to act hard to get the cock
And if I'm goin too far, I take it out and wipe it off
and put it back up, and keep going
You tryin to hide it from your husband but I know he be knowin
that your pussy's been tampered with
Then you show him the new trick of how you can lick it, smoke a cancer stick
You be workin it like a dancer bitch, it's hard on me
Not to give you all of my time, that you wanted
You can give me some head, but keep the breakfast in bed
I'd rather spend my mornin diggin through some records instead
But, tonight, I guess it'd be aight if we can touch bases
Hookup somewhere and exchange some "F*ck Faces"
I know your man's lookin for ya, he's always tryin to run ya
Don't worry bout me handcuffin gul cause I just wanna f*ck witchu
[Snoop Dogg]
.. f*ck witchu
On the sneak tip, on some creep shit
So whatcha gon' do, ya freak bitch?
You, actin, like you, don't, do, dicks
That's the kinda bitch I hate f*ckin wit
Baby was a virgin, that's what she said
So I gave her some Hennesey, she gave me some head
I f*cked her on the flo', so I wouldn't mess up my bed
Then Lil' 1/2 Dead put his dick on her head
Take that bitch home, and give her a bone
And give her the number to my cellular phone
Man, she blowin up my pager, the shit's gettin major
A favor for a favor, this dick is what I gave her
Somethin to go by, and bitches know why
Stuff dick in they mouth, and then I'm out (see-ya!)
Twenty-fo' seven, Dre, Snoop, and Devin
We servin' these hoes, and never lovin these hoes, beotch!
[Chorus]
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Still D.R.E.
Yeah, nigga
I'm still f*ckin' with ya
Still waters run deep
Still Snoop Dogg and D.R.E.
'99, nigga, guess who's back
Still, still doin' that shit, huh, Dre?
Oh, for sho'
Yeah
Check me out
It's still Dre, Day nigga, AK, nigga
Though I've grown a lot, can't keep it home a lot
'Cause when I frequent the spots that I'm known to rock
You hear the bass from the truck when I'm on the block
Ladies, they pay homage, but haters say Dre fell off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
(If you ain't up on thangs)
Dr. Dre is the name, I'm ahead of my game
Still puffin' my leaves
Still f*ck with the beats
Still not lovin' police (uh-uh)
Still rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease (for sho')
Still got love for the streets, reppin' 213 (for life)
Still the beats bang, still doin' my thang
Since I left ain't too much changed, still
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
Since the last time you heard from me, I lost some friends
Well, hell, me and Snoop, we dippin' again (ah)
Kept my ear to the streets, signed Eminem
He's triple platinum, doin' fifty a week
Still, I stay close to the heat
And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet
My life's like a soundtrack I wrote to the beat
Treat rap like Cali weed, I smoke 'til I sleep
Wake up in the AM, compose a beat
I bring the fire 'til you're soakin' in your seat
It's not a fluke, it's been tried, I'm the truth
Since, "Turn Out the Lights" from the World Class Wreckin Cru
I'm still at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still) the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
It ain't nothin' but more hot shit
Another classic CD for y'all to vibe with
Whether you're coolin' on a corner with your fly bitch (biatch)
Laid back in the shack, play this track
I'm representin' for the gangstas all across the world
(Still) sittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
I'll break your neck, damn near put your face in your lap
Niggas try to be the king but the ace is back
(So if you ain't up on thangs)
Dr. Dre be the name still running the game (what?)
Still got it wrapped like a mummy
Still ain't trippin', love to see young Blacks get money
Spend time out the hood, take they moms out the hood
Hit my boys off with jobs, no more livin' hard
Barbeques every day, drivin' fancy cars (hey, hey)
Still gon' get mine regardless (still)
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
Right back up in your mothaf*ckin' ass
9-5 plus four pennies, add that shit up
D.R.E. right back up on top of thangs
Smoke some with your Dogg
No stress, no seeds, no stems, no sticks
Some of that real sticky-icky-icky
Ooh-wee, put it in the air (air)
Boy, you's a fool D-R
Ha-ha
I'm still f*ckin' with ya
Still waters run deep
Still Snoop Dogg and D.R.E.
'99, nigga, guess who's back
Still, still doin' that shit, huh, Dre?
Oh, for sho'
Yeah
Check me out
It's still Dre, Day nigga, AK, nigga
Though I've grown a lot, can't keep it home a lot
'Cause when I frequent the spots that I'm known to rock
You hear the bass from the truck when I'm on the block
Ladies, they pay homage, but haters say Dre fell off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
(If you ain't up on thangs)
Dr. Dre is the name, I'm ahead of my game
Still puffin' my leaves
Still f*ck with the beats
Still not lovin' police (uh-uh)
Still rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease (for sho')
Still got love for the streets, reppin' 213 (for life)
Still the beats bang, still doin' my thang
Since I left ain't too much changed, still
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
Since the last time you heard from me, I lost some friends
Well, hell, me and Snoop, we dippin' again (ah)
Kept my ear to the streets, signed Eminem
He's triple platinum, doin' fifty a week
Still, I stay close to the heat
And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet
My life's like a soundtrack I wrote to the beat
Treat rap like Cali weed, I smoke 'til I sleep
Wake up in the AM, compose a beat
I bring the fire 'til you're soakin' in your seat
It's not a fluke, it's been tried, I'm the truth
Since, "Turn Out the Lights" from the World Class Wreckin Cru
I'm still at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still) the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
It ain't nothin' but more hot shit
Another classic CD for y'all to vibe with
Whether you're coolin' on a corner with your fly bitch (biatch)
Laid back in the shack, play this track
I'm representin' for the gangstas all across the world
(Still) sittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
I'll break your neck, damn near put your face in your lap
Niggas try to be the king but the ace is back
(So if you ain't up on thangs)
Dr. Dre be the name still running the game (what?)
Still got it wrapped like a mummy
Still ain't trippin', love to see young Blacks get money
Spend time out the hood, take they moms out the hood
Hit my boys off with jobs, no more livin' hard
Barbeques every day, drivin' fancy cars (hey, hey)
Still gon' get mine regardless (still)
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
I'm representin' for them gangstas all across the world
(Still) hittin' them corners in them low-low's, girl
(Still) takin' my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D.R.E.
Right back up in your mothaf*ckin' ass
9-5 plus four pennies, add that shit up
D.R.E. right back up on top of thangs
Smoke some with your Dogg
No stress, no seeds, no stems, no sticks
Some of that real sticky-icky-icky
Ooh-wee, put it in the air (air)
Boy, you's a fool D-R
Ha-ha
Writer: Melvin Bradford, Andre Romell Young, Scott Spencer Storch, Shawn C. Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Big Egos
[Intro: Sample]
[Cessna 0281-echo:] Los Angeles Approach Control this is Cessna 0281-echo-119.3. Over! [beat starts]
[L.A. Approach Control:] Cessna 0281-echo, roger that.
[Cessna 0281-echo:]
Assessment 1 Echo is over the Compton airport, five foot, five-thousand requesting
Ground approach control to the Los Angeles airport. Over!
[L.A. Approach Control:] Hey 1-Echo. It's Los Angeles Approach Control. Roger that. Zero-three-zero!
[21 seconds instrumental]
[Dr. Dre:]
I got mo' class' than most of 'em! - Ran with the best of 'em!
Forgave the less of 'em and blazed at the rest of 'em!
What can I say? Califor-NI-A (Califor-NI-A!)
Where niggaz die everyday over some shit they say.
Disconnected from the streets forever (DISCONNECTED FROM THE STREETS!)
As long as I got a baretta, - nigga! - I'm down for whateva! (I'm DOWN FOR WHATEVA!)
I roll with' my shit off safety
For niggaz that been hatin' me lately and the bitches that wanna break me! (WANNA Break ME!)
If Cali blew up - I'd be in the "Aftermath"! (AFTERMATH!)
Bumpin' gangsta rap shit down to blast for cash!
Cause from Eazy-E to D.O.C.! - To D.P.G.! (TO D.P.G.!)
Started from that S.O.B.! - D.R.E.! (D.R.E.!)
Like Dub-C I'm "Rich Rollin'". - Pistol holdin'. (PISTOL HOLDIN'!)
Pockets swoll, nigga. - That's how I'm rollin'! (THAT'S HOW I'm ROLLIN'!)
Put the flame to the killer, nigga. (PUT THE FLAME TO THE KILLER, NIGGA!)
Worldwide homicide mob figure and a builder. - Fo' real! (FO' REAL!)
I'm hittin' switches! (I'm HITTIN' SWITCHES!) - Makin' bitches eat bitches!
See me grab my dick everytime I pose for pictures!
I own acres! (I OWN ACRES!) - Floor seats watchin' The Lakers!
I'm cool with Essey's who got AK's in cases! (I'm COOL WITH ESSEY'S WHO GOT AK'S IN CASES!)
[Chorus: Hittman]
Dedicated to all of those with big ego's!
Never fakin'! - We get the dough and live legal!
Haters hate this, we sip the Mo' and Yank the heezos!
Niggaz play this in they Rovers Jeeps and Regals!
Dedicated to all of those with big ego's!
Never fakin'! - We get the dough and live legal!
Haters hate this, we sip the Mo' and Yank the heezos!
Bitches play this in they Benzes Jeeps and Geos!
[Hitman:]
I bust a Mr. Toughy. - Slash a Smoothy Doobie.
Crash and flex on Tuesday's, harassin' hoes at movies.
Passin' by with Uzis! - And who you aimin' at? (WHO YOU AIMIN' AT!)
That shady bitch and that bitch nigga that was claimin' that! - Rat-ta-tat-tat! [automatic gunshots, screaming]
[More screaming as tires peel out] I don't sympathize for wack hoes and wimpy guys
You got to recognize Hittman is a' enterprise! (HITTMAN IS A' ENTERPRISE!)
Cali' pride, born to ride and South Centralized (SOUTH CENTRALIZED!)
The Henny got me energized, smoke the guys;
Tryna focus on mine's! - Poke their eyes out (POKE THEIR EYES OUT!)
I'm L.A.'s loc'est, hope they don't - have to find out - the hard way! (THE HARD WAY!)
Like snitch niggaz in the pen that get
Hit when the guards look the other way. - We hittin' HARD, (WE HITTIN' HARD!) Hittman and Dre!
You playin' games, I suggest you know the rules
We puttin' guns to fools! - Make you run yo' jewels! (MAKE YOU RUN YO' JEWELS!)
Take yo' honey and cruise (TAKE YO' HONEY AND CRUISE!) to the snootiest snooze! - Cabos!
Pop coochie 'til the nut oozes! - You shouldn't f*ck with' crews; (YOU SHOULDN'T F*CK WIT' CREWS!)
That's sick! (THAT'S SICK!) - Aftermath cause we rule shit (AFTERMATH CAUSE WE RULE SHIT!)
I'm Big Hit'! (I'm BIG HIT'!) - Don't confuse me with' no other by the flow, motherf*cker!
[Chorus]
[Outro 1: Male singing]
[Phone's ringing]
[Answering machine goes on]
You look like A.C. Cream!
Bitch don't call here anymoo-ooooo'.
With feet like Ben Vereen,
Bitch don't caaall here anymoooooooo'
No, no, no noo-oooo!
[Outro 2: Hittman]
Whattup? It's Hittman!
I ain't at the crib right now...
So you can leave your name and number after the beat,
Unless it's Tammy's ugly-ass, I ain't f*ckin' with you!
[Cessna 0281-echo:] Los Angeles Approach Control this is Cessna 0281-echo-119.3. Over! [beat starts]
[L.A. Approach Control:] Cessna 0281-echo, roger that.
[Cessna 0281-echo:]
Assessment 1 Echo is over the Compton airport, five foot, five-thousand requesting
Ground approach control to the Los Angeles airport. Over!
[L.A. Approach Control:] Hey 1-Echo. It's Los Angeles Approach Control. Roger that. Zero-three-zero!
[21 seconds instrumental]
[Dr. Dre:]
I got mo' class' than most of 'em! - Ran with the best of 'em!
Forgave the less of 'em and blazed at the rest of 'em!
What can I say? Califor-NI-A (Califor-NI-A!)
Where niggaz die everyday over some shit they say.
Disconnected from the streets forever (DISCONNECTED FROM THE STREETS!)
As long as I got a baretta, - nigga! - I'm down for whateva! (I'm DOWN FOR WHATEVA!)
I roll with' my shit off safety
For niggaz that been hatin' me lately and the bitches that wanna break me! (WANNA Break ME!)
If Cali blew up - I'd be in the "Aftermath"! (AFTERMATH!)
Bumpin' gangsta rap shit down to blast for cash!
Cause from Eazy-E to D.O.C.! - To D.P.G.! (TO D.P.G.!)
Started from that S.O.B.! - D.R.E.! (D.R.E.!)
Like Dub-C I'm "Rich Rollin'". - Pistol holdin'. (PISTOL HOLDIN'!)
Pockets swoll, nigga. - That's how I'm rollin'! (THAT'S HOW I'm ROLLIN'!)
Put the flame to the killer, nigga. (PUT THE FLAME TO THE KILLER, NIGGA!)
Worldwide homicide mob figure and a builder. - Fo' real! (FO' REAL!)
I'm hittin' switches! (I'm HITTIN' SWITCHES!) - Makin' bitches eat bitches!
See me grab my dick everytime I pose for pictures!
I own acres! (I OWN ACRES!) - Floor seats watchin' The Lakers!
I'm cool with Essey's who got AK's in cases! (I'm COOL WITH ESSEY'S WHO GOT AK'S IN CASES!)
[Chorus: Hittman]
Dedicated to all of those with big ego's!
Never fakin'! - We get the dough and live legal!
Haters hate this, we sip the Mo' and Yank the heezos!
Niggaz play this in they Rovers Jeeps and Regals!
Dedicated to all of those with big ego's!
Never fakin'! - We get the dough and live legal!
Haters hate this, we sip the Mo' and Yank the heezos!
Bitches play this in they Benzes Jeeps and Geos!
[Hitman:]
I bust a Mr. Toughy. - Slash a Smoothy Doobie.
Crash and flex on Tuesday's, harassin' hoes at movies.
Passin' by with Uzis! - And who you aimin' at? (WHO YOU AIMIN' AT!)
That shady bitch and that bitch nigga that was claimin' that! - Rat-ta-tat-tat! [automatic gunshots, screaming]
[More screaming as tires peel out] I don't sympathize for wack hoes and wimpy guys
You got to recognize Hittman is a' enterprise! (HITTMAN IS A' ENTERPRISE!)
Cali' pride, born to ride and South Centralized (SOUTH CENTRALIZED!)
The Henny got me energized, smoke the guys;
Tryna focus on mine's! - Poke their eyes out (POKE THEIR EYES OUT!)
I'm L.A.'s loc'est, hope they don't - have to find out - the hard way! (THE HARD WAY!)
Like snitch niggaz in the pen that get
Hit when the guards look the other way. - We hittin' HARD, (WE HITTIN' HARD!) Hittman and Dre!
You playin' games, I suggest you know the rules
We puttin' guns to fools! - Make you run yo' jewels! (MAKE YOU RUN YO' JEWELS!)
Take yo' honey and cruise (TAKE YO' HONEY AND CRUISE!) to the snootiest snooze! - Cabos!
Pop coochie 'til the nut oozes! - You shouldn't f*ck with' crews; (YOU SHOULDN'T F*CK WIT' CREWS!)
That's sick! (THAT'S SICK!) - Aftermath cause we rule shit (AFTERMATH CAUSE WE RULE SHIT!)
I'm Big Hit'! (I'm BIG HIT'!) - Don't confuse me with' no other by the flow, motherf*cker!
[Chorus]
[Outro 1: Male singing]
[Phone's ringing]
[Answering machine goes on]
You look like A.C. Cream!
Bitch don't call here anymoo-ooooo'.
With feet like Ben Vereen,
Bitch don't caaall here anymoooooooo'
No, no, no noo-oooo!
[Outro 2: Hittman]
Whattup? It's Hittman!
I ain't at the crib right now...
So you can leave your name and number after the beat,
Unless it's Tammy's ugly-ass, I ain't f*ckin' with you!
Writer: Andre Young, Brian Bailey, Melvin Bradford, R Bembry, Scott Storch, Tracy Curry
Copyright: Lyrics © RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC. , WARNER CHAPPELL MUSIC INC
Copyright: Lyrics © RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC. , WARNER CHAPPELL MUSIC INC
Xxplosive
Xxplosive
West coast shit
My nigga-ish ways attract girls that used to turn they back
Causing me to yank they arm and pose like I would do them harm
Now I'm saying thank you cause they tell me
My shit's the bomb
Xxplosive
For my niggas drinking Cognac
Smoking weed, always pack
More than one firearm, chrome rims, riding on
Chronic in your system, let me know my shit's the bomb
Xxplosive
West Coast shit nigga
Overdosage imperial pistols ferocious
F*ck a bitch don't tease bitch, strip tease bitch
Eat a bowl of these bitch gobble the dick
Hoes forgot to eat a dick can shut the f*ck up
Gobble and swallow a nut up
Shut up and get my cash
Backhanded, pimp-slapped backwards and left stranded
Just pop ya collar, pimp convention, hoes for a dollar
Six-Deuce in a plush, six-deuce impala
Pimping hoes from Texas to Guatemala
Bitch niggas paid for hoes, just to lay with hoes
Relax one night, and paid to stay with hoes
Captain Save'em all day, well save this dick
Bitch nigga, you more of a bitch than a bitch
You ain't into hitting pussy or hitting the switch
You into hitting bitches off of the grip
You punk bitch
All my real doggs still kick it with me
All my down hoes still tricking with me
All the true gangstas know
Nate ain't never love no ho
All the hoodrats still shake it for me
All my true fans still check it for me
All the real smokers know
Nate ain't passing nothing but dope indeed
Real trees, chronic leaves, no seeds
When I met you last night baby
Before I blew your mind
I thought we had a chance, lady
No more, now that I'm sober you ain't that fine
Don't wanna treat you wrong
Don't wanna lead you on
Here baby, hit the bong
While the west coast rolls along
While we still making gangsta hits
You'll be still jocking gangsta dicks
Damn girl, you think you're slick
Somebody better get this bitch, this bitch
I got these freaky hoes
Clapping they hands, stomping they feet
Every now and then they put they mouth on me
Nowadays a G like me can't even call it
A 23-year old pussy fiend and freakaholic
Pimping bitches on the regular, I put that on the G
A hustler and a player, nowadays it pays to be
Let me drop some shit about this bitch I used to know
She gave your boy the head and said don't let nobody know
A bonafide pro, I had to grab the ho
She got freaky in your sixty-four, I skeeted in her throat
Been knowing the ho for four days, pimpin repays
And I bet you didn't know that she go both ways
She ate her best friend, I left them hoes at the mote'
They be beeping me and shit, but we don't kick it no mo'
Them hot hoes is fiending, they on the nuts
But bitch, I'm out your pussy when I nut, fo' real, Xxplosive
West coast shit
My nigga-ish ways attract girls that used to turn they back
Causing me to yank they arm and pose like I would do them harm
Now I'm saying thank you cause they tell me
My shit's the bomb
Xxplosive
For my niggas drinking Cognac
Smoking weed, always pack
More than one firearm, chrome rims, riding on
Chronic in your system, let me know my shit's the bomb
Xxplosive
West Coast shit nigga
Overdosage imperial pistols ferocious
F*ck a bitch don't tease bitch, strip tease bitch
Eat a bowl of these bitch gobble the dick
Hoes forgot to eat a dick can shut the f*ck up
Gobble and swallow a nut up
Shut up and get my cash
Backhanded, pimp-slapped backwards and left stranded
Just pop ya collar, pimp convention, hoes for a dollar
Six-Deuce in a plush, six-deuce impala
Pimping hoes from Texas to Guatemala
Bitch niggas paid for hoes, just to lay with hoes
Relax one night, and paid to stay with hoes
Captain Save'em all day, well save this dick
Bitch nigga, you more of a bitch than a bitch
You ain't into hitting pussy or hitting the switch
You into hitting bitches off of the grip
You punk bitch
All my real doggs still kick it with me
All my down hoes still tricking with me
All the true gangstas know
Nate ain't never love no ho
All the hoodrats still shake it for me
All my true fans still check it for me
All the real smokers know
Nate ain't passing nothing but dope indeed
Real trees, chronic leaves, no seeds
When I met you last night baby
Before I blew your mind
I thought we had a chance, lady
No more, now that I'm sober you ain't that fine
Don't wanna treat you wrong
Don't wanna lead you on
Here baby, hit the bong
While the west coast rolls along
While we still making gangsta hits
You'll be still jocking gangsta dicks
Damn girl, you think you're slick
Somebody better get this bitch, this bitch
I got these freaky hoes
Clapping they hands, stomping they feet
Every now and then they put they mouth on me
Nowadays a G like me can't even call it
A 23-year old pussy fiend and freakaholic
Pimping bitches on the regular, I put that on the G
A hustler and a player, nowadays it pays to be
Let me drop some shit about this bitch I used to know
She gave your boy the head and said don't let nobody know
A bonafide pro, I had to grab the ho
She got freaky in your sixty-four, I skeeted in her throat
Been knowing the ho for four days, pimpin repays
And I bet you didn't know that she go both ways
She ate her best friend, I left them hoes at the mote'
They be beeping me and shit, but we don't kick it no mo'
Them hot hoes is fiending, they on the nuts
But bitch, I'm out your pussy when I nut, fo' real, Xxplosive
Writer: Andre Young, Brian Anthony Bailey, Craig Longmiles, Nathaniel Hale, Ricardo Brown, Isaac Hayes, Andre Romell Young, Craig A. Longmiles, Ricardo Emmanuel Brown Jr., Nathaniel D. Hale
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Light Speed
[Dr. Dre]
Hey, yo whassup?
My name is Dre
Can I blaze some Chonic witchu?
[girl]
Nigga what? FO' SHO'!
Roll that shit up!
[Dr. Dre]
Hell yeah, still "Alwayz Into Somethin'"
Heart still in Compton
The comp can't oppose, dope Cali platinum classicals
Introduced you to my Doggs, that don't love hoes
and Firm Fiascoes - assholes
F*cked you up with my last video, tuxed up
doin a tango..
And cash, always in my grasp
Came up in the game wearin khakis not kangols, stranglin hoes
When asked about it in most interviews I just laugh
Now I vacate with hoes with a gang of ass
One feed me mangoes, the other lightin my hash
Rap tabloids write Dre's light in the ass (what?)
Came home uptight, ready to mash
like a gas pedal, get on that sixty-four Chevy level
AK-47 heavy metal
Who say Dre ain't ghetto? Just whistle like a tea kettle
I throw three at you, tell me if you see devils
cause we rebels over here, I smell Chronic in the air
that means we takin over this year
You hear?
[girl] Chronic, two-thousand, "ONE! [echoes]" - KRS-One
[Dre] That means we takin over this year, ya hear?
[girl]
Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
F*ck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas
[Hittman]
I hang among hustlers, I slang and hoo-bang Bronson
when bustaz roll through, can't f*ck with my bold crew
We will hold you captive and bust
cause gangbangin is the active, activity
where I be livin B, there ain't no Liberty Statue
Hope you got your gat, don't let them catch you
slippin, without yours, it's warfare outdoors
Ambulance, violent uproars
Trash niggaz takin out like chores I meet whores on tours
Jeans hot as pepper so I sip, champagne on stormy shores
We on some hardcore, pornographic
Totin Austrian firearms that's made out of plastic
In these drastic surroundings, it be sounding like
Lebanon, makin fools "RETREAT!" like Megatron and Starscream
Oh yeah I scream-on-stars
to get loot and crossover like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Get out your car son, that's how I came to bougie niggaz
Act bad one, it's either that or make front page stardom
I'm the Golden Child, chased by Sodom
?? gots my bulletproof it's hard to shoot me you hear?
(By the time you see him (BLAM BLAM))
That means it's real f*ckin hard to shoot me, you hear?
[girl]
Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
F*ck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas
Hey, yo whassup?
My name is Dre
Can I blaze some Chonic witchu?
[girl]
Nigga what? FO' SHO'!
Roll that shit up!
[Dr. Dre]
Hell yeah, still "Alwayz Into Somethin'"
Heart still in Compton
The comp can't oppose, dope Cali platinum classicals
Introduced you to my Doggs, that don't love hoes
and Firm Fiascoes - assholes
F*cked you up with my last video, tuxed up
doin a tango..
And cash, always in my grasp
Came up in the game wearin khakis not kangols, stranglin hoes
When asked about it in most interviews I just laugh
Now I vacate with hoes with a gang of ass
One feed me mangoes, the other lightin my hash
Rap tabloids write Dre's light in the ass (what?)
Came home uptight, ready to mash
like a gas pedal, get on that sixty-four Chevy level
AK-47 heavy metal
Who say Dre ain't ghetto? Just whistle like a tea kettle
I throw three at you, tell me if you see devils
cause we rebels over here, I smell Chronic in the air
that means we takin over this year
You hear?
[girl] Chronic, two-thousand, "ONE! [echoes]" - KRS-One
[Dre] That means we takin over this year, ya hear?
[girl]
Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
F*ck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas
[Hittman]
I hang among hustlers, I slang and hoo-bang Bronson
when bustaz roll through, can't f*ck with my bold crew
We will hold you captive and bust
cause gangbangin is the active, activity
where I be livin B, there ain't no Liberty Statue
Hope you got your gat, don't let them catch you
slippin, without yours, it's warfare outdoors
Ambulance, violent uproars
Trash niggaz takin out like chores I meet whores on tours
Jeans hot as pepper so I sip, champagne on stormy shores
We on some hardcore, pornographic
Totin Austrian firearms that's made out of plastic
In these drastic surroundings, it be sounding like
Lebanon, makin fools "RETREAT!" like Megatron and Starscream
Oh yeah I scream-on-stars
to get loot and crossover like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Get out your car son, that's how I came to bougie niggaz
Act bad one, it's either that or make front page stardom
I'm the Golden Child, chased by Sodom
?? gots my bulletproof it's hard to shoot me you hear?
(By the time you see him (BLAM BLAM))
That means it's real f*ckin hard to shoot me, you hear?
[girl]
Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
F*ck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Forgot About Dre
[Dr Dre]
Ya'll know me still the same ol' G
But I been low key
Hated on by most these niggas
Wit no cheese, no deals and no G's, no wheels and no keys
No boats, no snowmobiles and no ski's
Mad at me cause
I can finally afford to provide my family wit groceries
Got a crib wit a studio and it's all full of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hangin up in the office in back of my house like trophies
But ya'll think I'm gonna let my dough freeze
Ho Please
You better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to smoke trees
Who you think brought you the o' G's
Eazy-E's Ice Cube's and D.O.C's and Snoop D O double G's
And a group that said muthaf*ck the police
Gave you a tape full of dope beats
To bump when stroll through in your hood
And when your album sales wasn't doin too good
Who's the doc that he told you to go see
Ya'll better listen up closely
All you niggas that said that I turned pop
Or the Firm flop
ya'll are the reason Dre ain't been getting no sleep
So f*ck ya'll all of ya'll
If ya'll don't like me blow me
Ya'll are gonna keep f*ckin around wit me
And turn me back to the old me
[chorus x2 - Eminem]
Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthaf*ckas act like they forgot about Dre
[Eminem]
So what do you say to somebody you hate
Or anybody tryna bring trouble your way
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way
Just study your tape of NWA.
One day I was walkin by
Wit a walkmen on
When I caught a guy givin me an awkward eye
And strangled him off in the parkin lot wit his Karl Kani
I don't give a f*ck if it's dark or not
I'm harder than me tryna park a Dodge
But I'm drunk as f*ck
Right next to a humungous truck in a two car garage
Hoppin out wit two broken legs tryna walk it off
F*ck you too bitch call the cops
I'ma kill you and them loud ass muthaf*ckin barkin dogs
And when the cops came through
Me and Dre stood next to a burnt down house
Wit a can full of gas and a hand full of matches
And still weren't found out
From here on out it's the Chronic 2
Startin today and tomorrows the new
And I'm still loco enough
To choke you to death wit a Charleston chew
[Record scratch]
Slim shady hotter then a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz wit the windows up
And the temp goes up to the mid 80's
Callin men ladies
Sorry Doc but I been crazy
There is no way that you can save me
It's ok go with him Hailey
[chorus x2]
[Dr Dre]
If it was up to me
You muthaf*ckas would stop comin up to me
Wit your hands out lookin up to me
Like you want somethin free
When my last cd was out you wasn't bumpin me
But now that I got this little company
Everybody wanna come to me like it was some disease
But you won't get a crumb from me
Cause I'm from the streets of Compton
I told em all
All them little gangstas
Who you think helped mold 'em all
Now you wanna run around and talk about guns
Like I ain't got none
What you think I sold 'em all
Cause I stay well off
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin Dre fell off
What cause I been in the lab wit a pen and a pad
Tryna get this damn label off
I ain't havin that
This is the millenium of Aftermath
It ain't gonna be nothin after that
So give me one more platinum plaque and f*ck rap
You can have it back
So where's all the mad rappers at
It's like a jungle in this habitat
But all you savage cats
Knew that I was strapped wit gats
When you were cuddled wit cabbage patch
[Chorus x3]
Ya'll know me still the same ol' G
But I been low key
Hated on by most these niggas
Wit no cheese, no deals and no G's, no wheels and no keys
No boats, no snowmobiles and no ski's
Mad at me cause
I can finally afford to provide my family wit groceries
Got a crib wit a studio and it's all full of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hangin up in the office in back of my house like trophies
But ya'll think I'm gonna let my dough freeze
Ho Please
You better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to smoke trees
Who you think brought you the o' G's
Eazy-E's Ice Cube's and D.O.C's and Snoop D O double G's
And a group that said muthaf*ck the police
Gave you a tape full of dope beats
To bump when stroll through in your hood
And when your album sales wasn't doin too good
Who's the doc that he told you to go see
Ya'll better listen up closely
All you niggas that said that I turned pop
Or the Firm flop
ya'll are the reason Dre ain't been getting no sleep
So f*ck ya'll all of ya'll
If ya'll don't like me blow me
Ya'll are gonna keep f*ckin around wit me
And turn me back to the old me
[chorus x2 - Eminem]
Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthaf*ckas act like they forgot about Dre
[Eminem]
So what do you say to somebody you hate
Or anybody tryna bring trouble your way
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way
Just study your tape of NWA.
One day I was walkin by
Wit a walkmen on
When I caught a guy givin me an awkward eye
And strangled him off in the parkin lot wit his Karl Kani
I don't give a f*ck if it's dark or not
I'm harder than me tryna park a Dodge
But I'm drunk as f*ck
Right next to a humungous truck in a two car garage
Hoppin out wit two broken legs tryna walk it off
F*ck you too bitch call the cops
I'ma kill you and them loud ass muthaf*ckin barkin dogs
And when the cops came through
Me and Dre stood next to a burnt down house
Wit a can full of gas and a hand full of matches
And still weren't found out
From here on out it's the Chronic 2
Startin today and tomorrows the new
And I'm still loco enough
To choke you to death wit a Charleston chew
[Record scratch]
Slim shady hotter then a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz wit the windows up
And the temp goes up to the mid 80's
Callin men ladies
Sorry Doc but I been crazy
There is no way that you can save me
It's ok go with him Hailey
[chorus x2]
[Dr Dre]
If it was up to me
You muthaf*ckas would stop comin up to me
Wit your hands out lookin up to me
Like you want somethin free
When my last cd was out you wasn't bumpin me
But now that I got this little company
Everybody wanna come to me like it was some disease
But you won't get a crumb from me
Cause I'm from the streets of Compton
I told em all
All them little gangstas
Who you think helped mold 'em all
Now you wanna run around and talk about guns
Like I ain't got none
What you think I sold 'em all
Cause I stay well off
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin Dre fell off
What cause I been in the lab wit a pen and a pad
Tryna get this damn label off
I ain't havin that
This is the millenium of Aftermath
It ain't gonna be nothin after that
So give me one more platinum plaque and f*ck rap
You can have it back
So where's all the mad rappers at
It's like a jungle in this habitat
But all you savage cats
Knew that I was strapped wit gats
When you were cuddled wit cabbage patch
[Chorus x3]
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Next Episode
La-da-da-da-dahh
It's the motherf*ckin D-O-double-G (SNOOP DOGG!)
La-da-da-da-dahh
You know I'm mobbin with the D.R.E.
(YEAH YEAH YEAH
You know who's back up in this MOTHERFUCKER!)
What what what what?
(So blaze the weed up then!)
Blaze it up, blaze it up!
(Just blaze that shit up nigga, yeah, 'sup Snoop??)
Top Dogg, bite em all, nigga burn the shit up
D-P-G-C my nigga turn that shit up
C-P-T, L-B-C, yeah we hookin back up
And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up
Thug niggaz drug dealers yeah they givin it up
Lowlife, yo' life, boy we livin it up
Takin chances while we dancin in the party fo' sho'
Slip my hoe a forty-fo' and she got in the back do'
Bitches lookin at me strange but you know I don't care
Step up in this motherf*cker just a-swangin my hair
Bitch quit talkin, crip walk if you down with the set
Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope from this jet
Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap
And if yo' ass get cracked, bitch shut yo' trap
Come back, get back, that's the part of success
If you believe in the S you'll be relievin your stress
La-da-da-da-dahh
It's the motherf*ckin D.R.E. (Dr. Dre MOTHERFUCKER!)
La-da-da-da-dahhh
You know I'm mobbin with the D-O-double-G
Straight off the f*ckin streets of C-P-T
King of the beats you ride to em in your Fleet (Fleetwood)
Or Coupe DeVille rollin on dubs
How you feelin whoopty=whoop nigga whut?
Dre and Snoop chronic'ed out in the 'llac
With Doc in the back, sippin on 'gnac (yeah)
Clip in the strap, dippin through hoods (what hoods?)
Compton, Long Beach, Inglewood!
South Central out to the Westside (wessyde)
It's California Love, this California bud got a nigga gang of pub
I'm on one, I might bail up in the Century Club
With my jeans on, and my team strong
Get my drink on, and my smoke on
Then go home with, somethin to poke on (whassup bitch?)
Loc it's on for the two-triple-oh
Comin real, it's the next episode...
Hold up, waiiiiiiit
For my niggaz who be thinkin we soft
We don't, playyy
We gon' rock it til the wheels fall off
Hold up, heyyy
For my niggaz who be actin too bold
Take a, seeaaaaaat
Hope you ready for the next episode
Heyyyeyyy....
...smoke weed everday!
It's the motherf*ckin D-O-double-G (SNOOP DOGG!)
La-da-da-da-dahh
You know I'm mobbin with the D.R.E.
(YEAH YEAH YEAH
You know who's back up in this MOTHERFUCKER!)
What what what what?
(So blaze the weed up then!)
Blaze it up, blaze it up!
(Just blaze that shit up nigga, yeah, 'sup Snoop??)
Top Dogg, bite em all, nigga burn the shit up
D-P-G-C my nigga turn that shit up
C-P-T, L-B-C, yeah we hookin back up
And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up
Thug niggaz drug dealers yeah they givin it up
Lowlife, yo' life, boy we livin it up
Takin chances while we dancin in the party fo' sho'
Slip my hoe a forty-fo' and she got in the back do'
Bitches lookin at me strange but you know I don't care
Step up in this motherf*cker just a-swangin my hair
Bitch quit talkin, crip walk if you down with the set
Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope from this jet
Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap
And if yo' ass get cracked, bitch shut yo' trap
Come back, get back, that's the part of success
If you believe in the S you'll be relievin your stress
La-da-da-da-dahh
It's the motherf*ckin D.R.E. (Dr. Dre MOTHERFUCKER!)
La-da-da-da-dahhh
You know I'm mobbin with the D-O-double-G
Straight off the f*ckin streets of C-P-T
King of the beats you ride to em in your Fleet (Fleetwood)
Or Coupe DeVille rollin on dubs
How you feelin whoopty=whoop nigga whut?
Dre and Snoop chronic'ed out in the 'llac
With Doc in the back, sippin on 'gnac (yeah)
Clip in the strap, dippin through hoods (what hoods?)
Compton, Long Beach, Inglewood!
South Central out to the Westside (wessyde)
It's California Love, this California bud got a nigga gang of pub
I'm on one, I might bail up in the Century Club
With my jeans on, and my team strong
Get my drink on, and my smoke on
Then go home with, somethin to poke on (whassup bitch?)
Loc it's on for the two-triple-oh
Comin real, it's the next episode...
Hold up, waiiiiiiit
For my niggaz who be thinkin we soft
We don't, playyy
We gon' rock it til the wheels fall off
Hold up, heyyy
For my niggaz who be actin too bold
Take a, seeaaaaaat
Hope you ready for the next episode
Heyyyeyyy....
...smoke weed everday!
Writer: David Axelrod, Calvin Broadus, Barry Ridgeway Bailey, Melvin Bradford, Andre Romell Young
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lets Get High
[all together]
All these niggaz and all these hoes in here
Somebody here gon' f*ck! [repeat 4X]
[Hittman]
Talkin that, walkin that, spittin at hoes
Smokin this, drinkin that, hittin at hoes
F*ck this I'm hittin that I'm hittin em both
Have one ridin dick, one lickin my toes
When I'm lovin these hoes there ain't no love involved
No hugs, no kisses, bear rugs, bear britches
Rare bitches like to pose in them Black Tail pictures
Bitch jumped off my dick, "Is that Dre over there?"
[Dr. Dre]
Yeah -- I just took some Ecstasy
Ain't no tellin what the side effects could be
All these fine bitches equal sex to me
plus I got this bad bitch layin next to me
No doubt, sit back on the couch
Pants down, rubber on, set to turn that ass out
Laid the bitch out, then I put it in her mouth
Pulled out, nutted on a towel and passed out
[Kurupt]
Come on let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
Come on let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
let's get high, all my ladies
let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
high (hiiiiigh..)
Let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
Come on let's get high
I make the four hop [hydraulic sound] pull up at the spot
Weed by the barrels in my G'd up apparel
Stompin in the party, Kurupt, Young Gotti
I'm f*ckin somethin in this bitch, hit em with some gangsta shit
Put somethin in your mouth bitch real tasty
I'm lookin real sauce in my gangsta-ass Casey's
Hit the party, ease up, Kurupt with an ounce an'
got all the hoes in this motherf*cker bouncin [hydraulics]
Down to..
YO WHATTUP SCRAM JONES?
Mel-Man what's crackin?
Whassup wit all these ol' punk ass hoes in here?
[Ms. Roq]
Nigga WHUT??! I'm a hustlin bitch!
I like them get rich niggaz, them hit the switch niggaz
Niggaz bout the sex and which bitch to hit next
while I'm kickin my game and collectin them checks
Got all y'all niggaz vexed to f*ck this triple-X rated hoe
You say you ain't eat it - you ate it though
And uhh, Roq don't stop, can't be droppin no drawers
To the niggaz how you figure got you shittin in yours
Yeah, little dicks always runnin they mouth
While a bitch is better off to masturbate and be out
All you bitches up in here know what I'm talkin about
Get the loot, get the ice, f*ck the wife, no doubt
Tryin to live lavish, marry a big dick and stay carried
Holla back at them niggaz that hollered at me
Pop the Cris', whip the six and shit
and have all y'all niggaz limp when I twist my shit
Yeah! Bitch ass niggaz!
All these niggaz and all these hoes in here
Somebody here gon' f*ck! [repeat 4X]
[Hittman]
Talkin that, walkin that, spittin at hoes
Smokin this, drinkin that, hittin at hoes
F*ck this I'm hittin that I'm hittin em both
Have one ridin dick, one lickin my toes
When I'm lovin these hoes there ain't no love involved
No hugs, no kisses, bear rugs, bear britches
Rare bitches like to pose in them Black Tail pictures
Bitch jumped off my dick, "Is that Dre over there?"
[Dr. Dre]
Yeah -- I just took some Ecstasy
Ain't no tellin what the side effects could be
All these fine bitches equal sex to me
plus I got this bad bitch layin next to me
No doubt, sit back on the couch
Pants down, rubber on, set to turn that ass out
Laid the bitch out, then I put it in her mouth
Pulled out, nutted on a towel and passed out
[Kurupt]
Come on let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
Come on let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
let's get high, all my ladies
let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
high (hiiiiigh..)
Let's get high (hiiiiigh..)
Come on let's get high
I make the four hop [hydraulic sound] pull up at the spot
Weed by the barrels in my G'd up apparel
Stompin in the party, Kurupt, Young Gotti
I'm f*ckin somethin in this bitch, hit em with some gangsta shit
Put somethin in your mouth bitch real tasty
I'm lookin real sauce in my gangsta-ass Casey's
Hit the party, ease up, Kurupt with an ounce an'
got all the hoes in this motherf*cker bouncin [hydraulics]
Down to..
YO WHATTUP SCRAM JONES?
Mel-Man what's crackin?
Whassup wit all these ol' punk ass hoes in here?
[Ms. Roq]
Nigga WHUT??! I'm a hustlin bitch!
I like them get rich niggaz, them hit the switch niggaz
Niggaz bout the sex and which bitch to hit next
while I'm kickin my game and collectin them checks
Got all y'all niggaz vexed to f*ck this triple-X rated hoe
You say you ain't eat it - you ate it though
And uhh, Roq don't stop, can't be droppin no drawers
To the niggaz how you figure got you shittin in yours
Yeah, little dicks always runnin they mouth
While a bitch is better off to masturbate and be out
All you bitches up in here know what I'm talkin about
Get the loot, get the ice, f*ck the wife, no doubt
Tryin to live lavish, marry a big dick and stay carried
Holla back at them niggaz that hollered at me
Pop the Cris', whip the six and shit
and have all y'all niggaz limp when I twist my shit
Yeah! Bitch ass niggaz!
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, RACQUEL WEAVER, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, MARSHALL MATHERS, RICARDO BROWN, RANDY MULLER, STEPHON HARRIS CUNNINGHAM, BILL CURTIS, JOHN FLIPPIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., ROCKIN IT MUSIC
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., ROCKIN IT MUSIC
Bitch Niggaz
[Dre] Some good-ass weed!
[Snoop Dogg]
Check it out Dogg; this game is a motherf*ckin trip man
Word on the streets
Everybody always tryin to run up on me
hollerin about word on the street is dis nigga said dis..
Man I don't give a F*CK about what that nigga said man!
That's what's wrong with you niggaz, you niggaz is just like bitches
Hoe-ass niggaz, talk too motherf*ckin much (speak)
Study your own, get your own -- yahmsayin?
Be independent nigga - BEOTCH!
[Dre] Yeah
[Snoop] Bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)..
Bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)..
Bitch-ass niggaz (beotch)..
[both] BITCH NIGGAZ (bitch niggaz)..
[Snoop] Yeah I'm talkin about you (beotch)..
[Dre] Bitch niggaz
[Snoop] and you too (beotch)..
[Snoop Dogg]
Hmm.. Dogg..
I meet mo' bitch niggaz than hoes - look here
And I really don't know, but that's just how it go (damn)
Dogg - so many niggaz like to keep up shit
And just like a bitch (beotch) niggaz be talkin shit (nigga)
Smilin in my face and then they blast me in the back (ka-ka-ka-ka-ka)
Niggaz stay strapped from way back, cause payback..'ll
make niggaz wanna pop that shit
If you ain't ready for the game (uh-uh) nigga stop that shit
We rock that shit, my nigga Dre, drop that shit (right)
No mo' talkin, I'm walkin and I'm poppin the clip
Glock on the hip, set-trippin dippin an' shit
If you act like a bitch (nigga) nigga you get smacked like a bitch
[Snoop] Bitch niggaz, bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)
[Dr. Dre]
These niggaz don't know what the f*ck is goin on
Yo Dogg, check it kick back
Let me holla at these niggaz for a minute..
Straight off the streets of chaos and no pity
The aggravated, makin these punk muh'f*ckers hate it
COMPTON is the city I'm from
Cain't never leave the crib without a murder wea-pon
Huh, I cain't live my life on broke no mo'
And most of these fools ain't shit but cutthroats
They smile in a nigga face - and for what?
They got the game f*cked up, and want my thang f*cked up
I done learned a lot, seen a whole lot
The top notch nigga, I'm fiendin for that spot
Now peep game on what Six-Deuce told me
[Six-Two]
These niggaz after yo' paper, Dr. D.R.E. (what?)
And these punk-ass hoes is lookin for dough
You gotta watch your homeboys, cause a nigga never know
Oh, they'll be around, but when yo' paper get low
Just like Master P said, "There Dey Go, There Day Go"
Bitch niggaz... uh-huh...
[Dr. Dre cuts and scratches] "attention all personnel"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard" - [Audio Two]
"stop scheamin, and..an, and..an-an, and..and lookin hard"
[Dr. Dre]
Bitch nigga, a bitch nigga
Bitch nigga, HELLA bitch nigga
Youse a bitch nigga, motherf*cker bitch nigga
A bitch nigga.. a bitch nigga
[Hitman]
I know yo' type, so much bitch in you, if it was slightly darker
lights was little dimmer my dick be stuck up in yo' windpipe!
Hmm, you'd rather blow me than fight, I'm from the OLD SCHOOL
like Romey Rome homey yo, you owe me the right
to slap you, like the bitch that you are, that wanted to cap you
every since you was mad doggin me with that bitch in yo' car
Fool [singing] "Who do you think you are? Mr. Big Stuff"
Man, you shit on Hit, get yo' shit bust; plus
pistol-whipped, cover it up - use yo' bitch's blush
Mr. Powder Puff yo', bark ain't loud enough, huh
I know chihuahuas that's mo' rah-rah, HA HA
I have to laugh Dre, I bet he take bubble baths
You don't want no trouble with the Aftermath staff, trust me
Doggy Dogg, Diggy Doctor plus me
No youse a busta slash hussy, soft as a Hush Puppy
Must we break you down to estrogen most hated specimen's
a bitch nigga!
[Dr. Dre cuts and scratches] "attention all personnel"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard" - [Audio Two]
"stop..stop..stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
"..op-stop..ah-op-op-stop-sch-sch-scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin.. an-an.. an-an.. an-and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop skee-scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin, and.. and.. and..
stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
[Snoop Dogg]
Check it out Dogg; this game is a motherf*ckin trip man
Word on the streets
Everybody always tryin to run up on me
hollerin about word on the street is dis nigga said dis..
Man I don't give a F*CK about what that nigga said man!
That's what's wrong with you niggaz, you niggaz is just like bitches
Hoe-ass niggaz, talk too motherf*ckin much (speak)
Study your own, get your own -- yahmsayin?
Be independent nigga - BEOTCH!
[Dre] Yeah
[Snoop] Bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)..
Bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)..
Bitch-ass niggaz (beotch)..
[both] BITCH NIGGAZ (bitch niggaz)..
[Snoop] Yeah I'm talkin about you (beotch)..
[Dre] Bitch niggaz
[Snoop] and you too (beotch)..
[Snoop Dogg]
Hmm.. Dogg..
I meet mo' bitch niggaz than hoes - look here
And I really don't know, but that's just how it go (damn)
Dogg - so many niggaz like to keep up shit
And just like a bitch (beotch) niggaz be talkin shit (nigga)
Smilin in my face and then they blast me in the back (ka-ka-ka-ka-ka)
Niggaz stay strapped from way back, cause payback..'ll
make niggaz wanna pop that shit
If you ain't ready for the game (uh-uh) nigga stop that shit
We rock that shit, my nigga Dre, drop that shit (right)
No mo' talkin, I'm walkin and I'm poppin the clip
Glock on the hip, set-trippin dippin an' shit
If you act like a bitch (nigga) nigga you get smacked like a bitch
[Snoop] Bitch niggaz, bitch niggaz (bitch niggaz)
[Dr. Dre]
These niggaz don't know what the f*ck is goin on
Yo Dogg, check it kick back
Let me holla at these niggaz for a minute..
Straight off the streets of chaos and no pity
The aggravated, makin these punk muh'f*ckers hate it
COMPTON is the city I'm from
Cain't never leave the crib without a murder wea-pon
Huh, I cain't live my life on broke no mo'
And most of these fools ain't shit but cutthroats
They smile in a nigga face - and for what?
They got the game f*cked up, and want my thang f*cked up
I done learned a lot, seen a whole lot
The top notch nigga, I'm fiendin for that spot
Now peep game on what Six-Deuce told me
[Six-Two]
These niggaz after yo' paper, Dr. D.R.E. (what?)
And these punk-ass hoes is lookin for dough
You gotta watch your homeboys, cause a nigga never know
Oh, they'll be around, but when yo' paper get low
Just like Master P said, "There Dey Go, There Day Go"
Bitch niggaz... uh-huh...
[Dr. Dre cuts and scratches] "attention all personnel"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard" - [Audio Two]
"stop scheamin, and..an, and..an-an, and..and lookin hard"
[Dr. Dre]
Bitch nigga, a bitch nigga
Bitch nigga, HELLA bitch nigga
Youse a bitch nigga, motherf*cker bitch nigga
A bitch nigga.. a bitch nigga
[Hitman]
I know yo' type, so much bitch in you, if it was slightly darker
lights was little dimmer my dick be stuck up in yo' windpipe!
Hmm, you'd rather blow me than fight, I'm from the OLD SCHOOL
like Romey Rome homey yo, you owe me the right
to slap you, like the bitch that you are, that wanted to cap you
every since you was mad doggin me with that bitch in yo' car
Fool [singing] "Who do you think you are? Mr. Big Stuff"
Man, you shit on Hit, get yo' shit bust; plus
pistol-whipped, cover it up - use yo' bitch's blush
Mr. Powder Puff yo', bark ain't loud enough, huh
I know chihuahuas that's mo' rah-rah, HA HA
I have to laugh Dre, I bet he take bubble baths
You don't want no trouble with the Aftermath staff, trust me
Doggy Dogg, Diggy Doctor plus me
No youse a busta slash hussy, soft as a Hush Puppy
Must we break you down to estrogen most hated specimen's
a bitch nigga!
[Dr. Dre cuts and scratches] "attention all personnel"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard" - [Audio Two]
"stop..stop..stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
"..op-stop..ah-op-op-stop-sch-sch-scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin.. an-an.. an-an.. an-and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop skee-scheamin, and lookin hard"
"stop scheamin, and.. and.. and..
stop scheamin, and lookin hard"
Writer: BARRY RIDGEWAY BAILEY, MELVIN BRADFORD, CALVIN BROADUS, C. LONGMILES
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Murder Ink
[Hitman]
When darkness be closin in
I'm motivated, with the howlin wind
with a list of chosen men, frozen in sin
Knowin that your end is beginnin
Swift silent and deadly
There's no defendin my plots, I know your every movement
For six months I watch, coulda gotchu at your baby's mother's house
Even at your down-low weed spot
But the backdrop, wasn't flattering enough
I didn't want people gathering and stuff [cameras click]
Snapshots of blood splattering from the snuff
Here - puff this here, while I figure which way, to split yo' wig
Right now you as nervous, as a Farmer John pig
As I dig into my tragic bag, take out the HK
Twist on the silencer, insert the thirty-shot mag (WHOOSH)
Bullet stuck to his brain like a mack
Skull in fragments, I leave the cleanup to Dragnet
This is anybody MURDERAHHH
to f*ckin everybody MURDERAHHH
Nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
This is anybody MURDERAHHH
Motherf*ckin everybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
[Ms. Roq]
Peeped all the stash drop and exchange of the dough
Lurkin through the turf, think how I'ma just work
Give em chase to the crib and yo he properly laced
Stepped out the car, put my steel, to the side of his face
Murder - this the f*ckin Case, rob this nigga and shake
the f*ckin spot cause in a few it's gon' be crawlin with cops!
Who's the bad bitch now, you crept on, paid the piper
Who'da thought a sexy bitch could be a murderous sniper
Detrimental to your health, shoulda learned yo' lesson
But it's too late nigga bye-bye, better count yo' blessings
I been watchin you watchin me, yeah you ballin
Was, nigga now you finger f*cked and steady fallin
A thug wit no love, but bitch niggaz die fast
Thug niggaz die young - oh what you thought you would last?
Blast two shots to the dome, slide back to the pad
and jack my nigga off, til his dick get soft
Resume the wifey boo shit, cause yo my man don't know
that his bitch is straight ill, servin ass with fo'fo' (KABOOM)
I'm a motherf*ckin MURDERAHHH
Bitch disses anybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
I'm a motherf*ckin MURDERAHHH
Uhh bitch disses anybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed! [echoes]
When darkness be closin in
I'm motivated, with the howlin wind
with a list of chosen men, frozen in sin
Knowin that your end is beginnin
Swift silent and deadly
There's no defendin my plots, I know your every movement
For six months I watch, coulda gotchu at your baby's mother's house
Even at your down-low weed spot
But the backdrop, wasn't flattering enough
I didn't want people gathering and stuff [cameras click]
Snapshots of blood splattering from the snuff
Here - puff this here, while I figure which way, to split yo' wig
Right now you as nervous, as a Farmer John pig
As I dig into my tragic bag, take out the HK
Twist on the silencer, insert the thirty-shot mag (WHOOSH)
Bullet stuck to his brain like a mack
Skull in fragments, I leave the cleanup to Dragnet
This is anybody MURDERAHHH
to f*ckin everybody MURDERAHHH
Nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
This is anybody MURDERAHHH
Motherf*ckin everybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
[Ms. Roq]
Peeped all the stash drop and exchange of the dough
Lurkin through the turf, think how I'ma just work
Give em chase to the crib and yo he properly laced
Stepped out the car, put my steel, to the side of his face
Murder - this the f*ckin Case, rob this nigga and shake
the f*ckin spot cause in a few it's gon' be crawlin with cops!
Who's the bad bitch now, you crept on, paid the piper
Who'da thought a sexy bitch could be a murderous sniper
Detrimental to your health, shoulda learned yo' lesson
But it's too late nigga bye-bye, better count yo' blessings
I been watchin you watchin me, yeah you ballin
Was, nigga now you finger f*cked and steady fallin
A thug wit no love, but bitch niggaz die fast
Thug niggaz die young - oh what you thought you would last?
Blast two shots to the dome, slide back to the pad
and jack my nigga off, til his dick get soft
Resume the wifey boo shit, cause yo my man don't know
that his bitch is straight ill, servin ass with fo'fo' (KABOOM)
I'm a motherf*ckin MURDERAHHH
Bitch disses anybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed
I'm a motherf*ckin MURDERAHHH
Uhh bitch disses anybody MURDERAHHH
Yeah nigga all y'all MURDERAHHH
uh, uh, for real
You'll f*ck around and get killed! [echoes]
Writer: ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, RACQUEL WEAVER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Ed-ucation
[Eddie Griffin]
Aww they say uhh..
.. a black man is a pimp
Well let me tell you the biggest pimp
on planet motherf*ckin Earth, is her momma
It's her MOMMA that told her,
"Get a man that got a good job gurl!
Make sure he got a good car gurl!
Make sure he can take you out and buy you somethin gurl!"
What happened to just fallin in love with a nigga with a bus pass --
-- just cause you love the nigga?
But +I'm+ the pimp motherf*cker!
I gotta be the player!
Biggest hoes, on planet Earth..
.. are walkin through the motherf*ckin neighborhood
You KNEW when you got with the nigga he already had a woman
You knew he already had a family
but you f*cked him anyway!!!
And then when you thought you gon' lose the nigga
you went and got pregant - didn't you bitch, DIDN'T YOU!!
THE OL' KEEP A NIGGA BABY
And then when the nigga ain't around, what do you tell the child?
"Aww that nigga ain't shit, that's why yo' daddy ain't here;
cause that nigga ain't shit."
How bout bein a woman, and tellin the kid the truth
that yo' momma, you was a hoe!
TELL THE KID!
Momma was a hoe, I was weekend pussy
I had you to keep the nigga, it didn't work out
that's why he ain't here - but he a good nigga
cause he take care of his REAL family
I was just a dumb bitch, tryin to keep, a nigga that I wanted
Aww they say uhh..
.. a black man is a pimp
Well let me tell you the biggest pimp
on planet motherf*ckin Earth, is her momma
It's her MOMMA that told her,
"Get a man that got a good job gurl!
Make sure he got a good car gurl!
Make sure he can take you out and buy you somethin gurl!"
What happened to just fallin in love with a nigga with a bus pass --
-- just cause you love the nigga?
But +I'm+ the pimp motherf*cker!
I gotta be the player!
Biggest hoes, on planet Earth..
.. are walkin through the motherf*ckin neighborhood
You KNEW when you got with the nigga he already had a woman
You knew he already had a family
but you f*cked him anyway!!!
And then when you thought you gon' lose the nigga
you went and got pregant - didn't you bitch, DIDN'T YOU!!
THE OL' KEEP A NIGGA BABY
And then when the nigga ain't around, what do you tell the child?
"Aww that nigga ain't shit, that's why yo' daddy ain't here;
cause that nigga ain't shit."
How bout bein a woman, and tellin the kid the truth
that yo' momma, you was a hoe!
TELL THE KID!
Momma was a hoe, I was weekend pussy
I had you to keep the nigga, it didn't work out
that's why he ain't here - but he a good nigga
cause he take care of his REAL family
I was just a dumb bitch, tryin to keep, a nigga that I wanted
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Some L.A. Niggaz
Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in this motherf*cker
(West West y'all)
Yeah, L.A. niggas
L.A. niggas rule the world nigga
Y'all niggas gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin?
Niggas don't wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin?
But this shit come all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, droppin' heat box on y'all bitch-ass
Yaknahmsayin? You gotta recognize
L.A. niggas, connected all over the motherf*cking world, nigga
Recognize this; peep game
Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag
Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag
G'd up from the feet up
Blue'd up from the shoe up's how I grew up
Loc'n, smokin' and drinkin' til we threw up (threw up)
At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' fools up
Ditching my class, just to f*ck yo' school up
You don't wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up
But don't sleep, y'all niggas quick to shoot you
Now there's another motherf*cker with no future
But Time Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba
Got em jumpin Disciples to the Hoover
I'm coming "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon
Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner
Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch
From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha
Picture this, Dr. Dre twisting wit Tha Liks
And Hittman bought a fix
Don't trip, it's a Time Bomb in this bitch
Here it tick tick tick tick {*BOOM*}
Wait a minute it's on, I tell it like a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine sold separate, check it
From sundown to sunup -- clown and run up
The Aftermath'll be two in your gut, nigga what?
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A.!
Gimme that mic fool, it's a West coast jack move
They call me Hitt cause I spit like gats do
Cock me back
Bust caps for my max crew, at Fairfax
Who used to wear Air Max shoes, that's true
But I grew up where niggas jack you, harass you
Blast you, for that set you claim (where you from?)
Mash on you for your Turkish chain, C.K. B.K
Blue'd up or flame, I ran wit a gang
I helped niggas get, jacked for they Dana Dane's
My pants hang below my waistline
I look humble wanna rumble? (yeah yeah)
I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline
Don't waste my time
F*ck a scrap in killa Cali, AK's and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches
I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'
Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood
Slugs for the f*ck of it
Anybody hatin' on us can suck a dick
If I catch you touching mine you catch a flat-line, dead on the floor
Better than yours, driving away gettin' head from a whore
It's AvireX-to-the-Z
F*ckin' with me might get you banned from TV
Cassette and CD it's all mine the whole nine the right time
Multiply, we don't die, the streets don't lie
What, so neither do I, I'm bad for your health
Like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself
Five in the mornin', burglars at my do'
Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer
Let 'em come in BLAOW he see the thunder roll
Roll with niggas, who buy fifths by the fo'
And brew's by the case
SLAP YOU in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced
Likwit Kings wit Sedans and gold rings
Haters fold the style, but can't find no openings
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A.!
In L.A
That's how we ride
(West West y'all)
Yeah, L.A. niggas
L.A. niggas rule the world nigga
Y'all niggas gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin?
Niggas don't wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin?
But this shit come all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, droppin' heat box on y'all bitch-ass
Yaknahmsayin? You gotta recognize
L.A. niggas, connected all over the motherf*cking world, nigga
Recognize this; peep game
Now in my younger days I used to sport a rag
Backpack full of cans plus a four-four mag
G'd up from the feet up
Blue'd up from the shoe up's how I grew up
Loc'n, smokin' and drinkin' til we threw up (threw up)
At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' fools up
Ditching my class, just to f*ck yo' school up
You don't wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up
But don't sleep, y'all niggas quick to shoot you
Now there's another motherf*cker with no future
But Time Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba
Got em jumpin Disciples to the Hoover
I'm coming "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon
Smoke big green, call it Bruce Banner
Watch your manners, at last another blast from the top notch
From way back with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha
Picture this, Dr. Dre twisting wit Tha Liks
And Hittman bought a fix
Don't trip, it's a Time Bomb in this bitch
Here it tick tick tick tick {*BOOM*}
Wait a minute it's on, I tell it like a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine sold separate, check it
From sundown to sunup -- clown and run up
The Aftermath'll be two in your gut, nigga what?
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A.!
Gimme that mic fool, it's a West coast jack move
They call me Hitt cause I spit like gats do
Cock me back
Bust caps for my max crew, at Fairfax
Who used to wear Air Max shoes, that's true
But I grew up where niggas jack you, harass you
Blast you, for that set you claim (where you from?)
Mash on you for your Turkish chain, C.K. B.K
Blue'd up or flame, I ran wit a gang
I helped niggas get, jacked for they Dana Dane's
My pants hang below my waistline
I look humble wanna rumble? (yeah yeah)
I bang though, like Vince Carter from the baseline
Don't waste my time
F*ck a scrap in killa Cali, AK's and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches
I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'
Where the brothers in the hood, refused to go Hollywood
Slugs for the f*ck of it
Anybody hatin' on us can suck a dick
If I catch you touching mine you catch a flat-line, dead on the floor
Better than yours, driving away gettin' head from a whore
It's AvireX-to-the-Z
F*ckin' with me might get you banned from TV
Cassette and CD it's all mine the whole nine the right time
Multiply, we don't die, the streets don't lie
What, so neither do I, I'm bad for your health
Like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself
Five in the mornin', burglars at my do'
Glock forty-five in my dresser drawer
Let 'em come in BLAOW he see the thunder roll
Roll with niggas, who buy fifths by the fo'
And brew's by the case
SLAP YOU in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre laced
Likwit Kings wit Sedans and gold rings
Haters fold the style, but can't find no openings
We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act this way in L.A.!
In L.A
That's how we ride
Writer: ALVIN JOINER, ANDRE YOUNG, ROGER MCBRIDE, BRIAN BAILEY, D JOHNSON, R. HARBOR, MARQUESE HOLDER, BIG DEEZZZ, D. JOHNSON, MARQUESE D. HOLDER, ROYAL HARBOR, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, A JOYNER, M. HOLDER, R MCBRIDE
Copyright: Lyrics © Royalty Network, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Royalty Network, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Housewife
[Chorus: Kurupt]
Now this this is one of them occasions
where the homies not doin it right
I mean he found him a hoe that he like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife
And when it all boils down you gonna find in the end
a bitch is a bitch, but a Dogg is a man's best friend
So what you found you a hoe that you like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife (wife)
[Dr. Dre]
I mostly sold dick while I packed a gold clip
Worked my money-maker, she got paper, she bout to trip
(Where the f*ck is my money?) I cannot G guilty
You pimpin strong, but comin home, to sheets that be filthy
She on the dillzy, I take advantage
All up in them panties, I got this bitch speakin Spanish
I'm mannish - get yo' nails out my back
Slut I'm bout to nut and get up, go scrub yo' cat
Learn the player rules, this is how I play a dude
Might not be a freak, but she got on the choosin shoes
Dollar signs are folded, I can't control it
Tryin to leave her, beeper just exploded
She sweatin me, won't let me, broad turned fraud
Now she on this dick huh, got her turnin tricks huh
Man it's a trip I don't trip I'm in yo' Lexus flexin
I left her up in Dallas, Texas - assed-out
[Chorus]
[Hittman]
Naw hoe is short for honey, almost had her Wailin like Bunny
Tellin tales of bein pregnant, catchin Norstrom sales with abortion money
I spotted her, seen her with my nigga when I shot at her
Now we got beef, he caught up in the hoe's erotica
Exotic - she's psychotic, rockin his Nautica
Soon he'll need antibiotics (sucka bitch)
Name a sexual disease, she got it like Sam Goody
You be like, "Damn how could she hit me off with chlamydia?"
Fool I pity ya
We live in the city off, ballers
with more bouncin than a Zapp, she will doo-wah-diddy-ya
Prettier to grittier, the wittier can get her
to the Hotel, Niko, on some Sauve shit like, Rico
That's when I caught a Vision like Coleco
A high-post hoe, a perfect way for me to keep dough
Huh, have her sellin ass on Bronson Ave. and Pico
[Kurupt]
At the ho-tel, mo-tel, or the Holiday Inn (say what nigga?)
I said if that bitch keep f*ckin up (beotch) then we'll f*ck her friends
I said I dip, dive, what can I say?
Niggaz need to stop f*ckin with O.J.
Some niggaz bang blood, some niggaz bang crip
And bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks
I had to dream of hoes, I had to scream at hoes
I seen my hoes in all kinds of clothes
Lil' Almond Joy, I truly enjoy
if you blew my balls, right through my drawers
Come back to the mansion, chill at the spot
From the way she was blowin, I know she does it a lot
I have a eight-and-a-half, nine-and-three-quarters
The hoe started callin when I started boss ballin
Gimme some head, gimme some ass (uh-huh)
Gimme some cash, pass it to Daz
Pass it to Snoop, or pass it to Nate
Hoes eat dick like eggs and steak
That ain't shit new, I thought you knew (what?)
I knew you would, you wish you could
break a G down, break me down
But I'ma see you on the rebound (what what?) D.P. style
[Chorus]
[door slams]
[D.O.C.]
Lil' 1/2 Dead
[1/2 Dead??]
Lil' 1/2 Dead the money jumped out to say
ol' Snoop Dogg on the look out boy?
[D.O.C.]
Yeahhh
[some hoe]
He gotta be MORE than 1/2 Dead
if he don't fill my motherf*ckin drink up!
[1/2 Dead??]
Or fill your motherf*ckin mouth up
[D.O.C.]
Ahhhhhh-HAHAhahahahAHAHH
[some hoe]
I don't think so!!
Now this this is one of them occasions
where the homies not doin it right
I mean he found him a hoe that he like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife
And when it all boils down you gonna find in the end
a bitch is a bitch, but a Dogg is a man's best friend
So what you found you a hoe that you like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife (wife)
[Dr. Dre]
I mostly sold dick while I packed a gold clip
Worked my money-maker, she got paper, she bout to trip
(Where the f*ck is my money?) I cannot G guilty
You pimpin strong, but comin home, to sheets that be filthy
She on the dillzy, I take advantage
All up in them panties, I got this bitch speakin Spanish
I'm mannish - get yo' nails out my back
Slut I'm bout to nut and get up, go scrub yo' cat
Learn the player rules, this is how I play a dude
Might not be a freak, but she got on the choosin shoes
Dollar signs are folded, I can't control it
Tryin to leave her, beeper just exploded
She sweatin me, won't let me, broad turned fraud
Now she on this dick huh, got her turnin tricks huh
Man it's a trip I don't trip I'm in yo' Lexus flexin
I left her up in Dallas, Texas - assed-out
[Chorus]
[Hittman]
Naw hoe is short for honey, almost had her Wailin like Bunny
Tellin tales of bein pregnant, catchin Norstrom sales with abortion money
I spotted her, seen her with my nigga when I shot at her
Now we got beef, he caught up in the hoe's erotica
Exotic - she's psychotic, rockin his Nautica
Soon he'll need antibiotics (sucka bitch)
Name a sexual disease, she got it like Sam Goody
You be like, "Damn how could she hit me off with chlamydia?"
Fool I pity ya
We live in the city off, ballers
with more bouncin than a Zapp, she will doo-wah-diddy-ya
Prettier to grittier, the wittier can get her
to the Hotel, Niko, on some Sauve shit like, Rico
That's when I caught a Vision like Coleco
A high-post hoe, a perfect way for me to keep dough
Huh, have her sellin ass on Bronson Ave. and Pico
[Kurupt]
At the ho-tel, mo-tel, or the Holiday Inn (say what nigga?)
I said if that bitch keep f*ckin up (beotch) then we'll f*ck her friends
I said I dip, dive, what can I say?
Niggaz need to stop f*ckin with O.J.
Some niggaz bang blood, some niggaz bang crip
And bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks
I had to dream of hoes, I had to scream at hoes
I seen my hoes in all kinds of clothes
Lil' Almond Joy, I truly enjoy
if you blew my balls, right through my drawers
Come back to the mansion, chill at the spot
From the way she was blowin, I know she does it a lot
I have a eight-and-a-half, nine-and-three-quarters
The hoe started callin when I started boss ballin
Gimme some head, gimme some ass (uh-huh)
Gimme some cash, pass it to Daz
Pass it to Snoop, or pass it to Nate
Hoes eat dick like eggs and steak
That ain't shit new, I thought you knew (what?)
I knew you would, you wish you could
break a G down, break me down
But I'ma see you on the rebound (what what?) D.P. style
[Chorus]
[door slams]
[D.O.C.]
Lil' 1/2 Dead
[1/2 Dead??]
Lil' 1/2 Dead the money jumped out to say
ol' Snoop Dogg on the look out boy?
[D.O.C.]
Yeahhh
[some hoe]
He gotta be MORE than 1/2 Dead
if he don't fill my motherf*ckin drink up!
[1/2 Dead??]
Or fill your motherf*ckin mouth up
[D.O.C.]
Ahhhhhh-HAHAhahahahAHAHH
[some hoe]
I don't think so!!
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, MELVIN BRADFORD, RICARDO BROWN, RICARDO EMMANUEL BROWN, TRACY CURRY, TRACY LYNN CURRY
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Ackrite
[Hittman]
It's f*ckin ackrite
Question is - can I get some? Knahmsayin?
Ackrite bitch
When I see you in the spot, you just ackrite, youknahmsayin?
When I yank you by the f*ckin perm
don't be lookin at a nigga crazy
Just get with the digits and be the f*ck out, youknahmsayin?
Let me break it down for y'all
It was just one of those days
when I wanted to catch sunrays
Fun to get blunted on a Sunday, afternoon
Nigga ? got room, grab the gat for misbehavors
and the chocolate faded boom, flossin hip-hop tunes
Zoom-zoom like the Commodores
Wonder will we have drama or, end up clownin whores
Around the full good-to-go girls
like them ?? girls, ridin shotgun, baby
I be postin all-world in the ride
Sippin 151 that gave me too much pride to back down
Soon as we get to the beach I'ma put my f*ckin mack down
I'm playin lead, not the background
It's time to put Bronson on the map now
Walk with my hand on my Johnson, crack a smile
Cuties peep my style, if I don't get some ackrite
I'ma have to ack-wild
[Chorus: sung by Hittman]
Blunt in my left hand, drink in my right
Strap by my waistline, cause niggaz don't fight
Sucker free for life, so you better think twice
(Aight? And a give a nig' some ackrite)
I'm the type of nigga playa haters don't like
Snatchin up your honey for some late night hype
And snobby-ass bitches get slapped out of spite
(Aight? So give a nig' some ackrite, right)
[Hittman]
Uhhhhh.. drink kickin in, I'm stimulated
For those that don't know big words, I'M F*CKIN FADED
Eighty-three degrees, ease to a shaded spot
Our first spot was cool til some gangsters made it hot
Now we plot and pose
plus we watchin hoes, with lots of flesh exposed
gettin swarmed by those type of niggaz
with no game but brown-nose
So I impose only like pros can
"Yo, is this your man?" "No."
Grab the bitch's hand, "I'm Hittman."
Bling! Gold chain gleam
"You're very eligible for my summer league team."
Maybe too extreme cause the sister got steamed
Then Miss Thing tried to scream on my brethern
I got mad spit flame on the name
Stefan, tattooed on her arm
Hoe you ain't the bomb, must be a dyke
witcho' lips swoll, and give a nig' some ackrite
[Chorus (minus the word "Aight" both times)]
[Hittman]
Frontin on the ack-rite, causin me to act up
Good Samaritan save that hoe from gettin slapped up
My homies crack up at the scene I made
Yo my actions ain't serene when a nigga's on fade
If it wasn't for the one-time brigade
I woulda sprayed at the hooker tramp
As cops parade I'm afraid it's time to break camp
Make tracks, where else can we go to take hoes
from fake macks {*CAR HORN*} aiyyo, chase them girls
in that black Maxima, the passenger, almost fractured her
neckbone, lookin back at us
Plus, they on the dick cause the Caddy's plush
They blush, I bumrush the hush, with the largest crush
Try to swing an ep tonight so I don't have to keep in touch
Keep it on hush without the tip-in
Mackin interrupted by some niggaz set-trippin
Clip in the strap, I showed these niggaz how to act
[Chorus]
It's f*ckin ackrite
Question is - can I get some? Knahmsayin?
Ackrite bitch
When I see you in the spot, you just ackrite, youknahmsayin?
When I yank you by the f*ckin perm
don't be lookin at a nigga crazy
Just get with the digits and be the f*ck out, youknahmsayin?
Let me break it down for y'all
It was just one of those days
when I wanted to catch sunrays
Fun to get blunted on a Sunday, afternoon
Nigga ? got room, grab the gat for misbehavors
and the chocolate faded boom, flossin hip-hop tunes
Zoom-zoom like the Commodores
Wonder will we have drama or, end up clownin whores
Around the full good-to-go girls
like them ?? girls, ridin shotgun, baby
I be postin all-world in the ride
Sippin 151 that gave me too much pride to back down
Soon as we get to the beach I'ma put my f*ckin mack down
I'm playin lead, not the background
It's time to put Bronson on the map now
Walk with my hand on my Johnson, crack a smile
Cuties peep my style, if I don't get some ackrite
I'ma have to ack-wild
[Chorus: sung by Hittman]
Blunt in my left hand, drink in my right
Strap by my waistline, cause niggaz don't fight
Sucker free for life, so you better think twice
(Aight? And a give a nig' some ackrite)
I'm the type of nigga playa haters don't like
Snatchin up your honey for some late night hype
And snobby-ass bitches get slapped out of spite
(Aight? So give a nig' some ackrite, right)
[Hittman]
Uhhhhh.. drink kickin in, I'm stimulated
For those that don't know big words, I'M F*CKIN FADED
Eighty-three degrees, ease to a shaded spot
Our first spot was cool til some gangsters made it hot
Now we plot and pose
plus we watchin hoes, with lots of flesh exposed
gettin swarmed by those type of niggaz
with no game but brown-nose
So I impose only like pros can
"Yo, is this your man?" "No."
Grab the bitch's hand, "I'm Hittman."
Bling! Gold chain gleam
"You're very eligible for my summer league team."
Maybe too extreme cause the sister got steamed
Then Miss Thing tried to scream on my brethern
I got mad spit flame on the name
Stefan, tattooed on her arm
Hoe you ain't the bomb, must be a dyke
witcho' lips swoll, and give a nig' some ackrite
[Chorus (minus the word "Aight" both times)]
[Hittman]
Frontin on the ack-rite, causin me to act up
Good Samaritan save that hoe from gettin slapped up
My homies crack up at the scene I made
Yo my actions ain't serene when a nigga's on fade
If it wasn't for the one-time brigade
I woulda sprayed at the hooker tramp
As cops parade I'm afraid it's time to break camp
Make tracks, where else can we go to take hoes
from fake macks {*CAR HORN*} aiyyo, chase them girls
in that black Maxima, the passenger, almost fractured her
neckbone, lookin back at us
Plus, they on the dick cause the Caddy's plush
They blush, I bumrush the hush, with the largest crush
Try to swing an ep tonight so I don't have to keep in touch
Keep it on hush without the tip-in
Mackin interrupted by some niggaz set-trippin
Clip in the strap, I showed these niggaz how to act
[Chorus]
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, MELVIN BRADFORD
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Bang Bang
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
[Dr. Dre]
Everyday it's the same thang, L.A. ain't changed
Niggaz still playa hatin, but Dre ain't changed
I'm just a lot smarter now
cause these niggaz is bangin ten times harder now
Niggaz ringin they ass up in the wrong part of town
Better turn they car around
Rollin the window down (Em: Hey can we talk it out?)
(Hitt: NAH GET THE F*CK OUT!)
Johnny got a shotgun
and he ain't even strong enough to cock one
F*ck tryin to job hunt
Niggaz got AK's, niggaz is way crazier
than Dre was back in his N.W.A. days
Niggaz spray strays and shoot without lookin
Niggaz walk by and blast without leavin a footprint
I think the attitudes are twice as worst
It takes half the time to get your life reversed
Always tryin to play Rambo with they ammo
Make a nigga wanna stay in family mode
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!!
[Knoc-turn'al]
Late nights is full of led that whistles as it goes by
Murder arrives, anytime
Bullets take flight when the fo'-five ignites
Some hearts skip a beat, some get blew out, and every light
put you in the site of youngsters with automatics
Bustin on shit to lay everything down even tourists and non-affiliates
These days, gun play is official with green lights on every block
Know the sign tells you too it's not best to stop
On every corner, Cali niggaz are dumpin
You'll be shakin your soul loose from the box at the coroner's
Makin death not so foreign to ya
Niggaz got Rugers and M-14's with enough,
ammo to leave an armored truck swiss cheese
I've learned to stay away from house parties
I've seen too many go and end up absent without leavin
Ain't no, warm welcomings, my eyes have witnessed the bend in on
Nights that don't sleep, and fireworks until dawn
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
[Hittman]
Now tell me - what the f*ck is this man?
Niggaz doin brothers in worse than the Klan
Can't even stand, in front of your buildin and chill
without yieldin, twelve-year-old children that kill
blood spillin, thugs be illin, unnecessary slugs
fillin the sky, usually drillin the one
that wasn't willin to die, yes sir in the Killing Field
I got my, life preserver
And I'll do my time for murder, these niggaz got the nerve to
question me - bout the colors that I got on?
Now see that red dot on your knot
Bout to get your whole crew shot on
A Soldier of Fortune, I'm the wrong nigga to plot on
Took him out on the spot before he even got on
my hitlist -- peep this
I cock back, you bow down
Bust round, bloody the ground, retaliation sounds like this
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
[Dr. Dre]
Everyday it's the same thang, L.A. ain't changed
Niggaz still playa hatin, but Dre ain't changed
I'm just a lot smarter now
cause these niggaz is bangin ten times harder now
Niggaz ringin they ass up in the wrong part of town
Better turn they car around
Rollin the window down (Em: Hey can we talk it out?)
(Hitt: NAH GET THE F*CK OUT!)
Johnny got a shotgun
and he ain't even strong enough to cock one
F*ck tryin to job hunt
Niggaz got AK's, niggaz is way crazier
than Dre was back in his N.W.A. days
Niggaz spray strays and shoot without lookin
Niggaz walk by and blast without leavin a footprint
I think the attitudes are twice as worst
It takes half the time to get your life reversed
Always tryin to play Rambo with they ammo
Make a nigga wanna stay in family mode
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!!
[Knoc-turn'al]
Late nights is full of led that whistles as it goes by
Murder arrives, anytime
Bullets take flight when the fo'-five ignites
Some hearts skip a beat, some get blew out, and every light
put you in the site of youngsters with automatics
Bustin on shit to lay everything down even tourists and non-affiliates
These days, gun play is official with green lights on every block
Know the sign tells you too it's not best to stop
On every corner, Cali niggaz are dumpin
You'll be shakin your soul loose from the box at the coroner's
Makin death not so foreign to ya
Niggaz got Rugers and M-14's with enough,
ammo to leave an armored truck swiss cheese
I've learned to stay away from house parties
I've seen too many go and end up absent without leavin
Ain't no, warm welcomings, my eyes have witnessed the bend in on
Nights that don't sleep, and fireworks until dawn
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
[Hittman]
Now tell me - what the f*ck is this man?
Niggaz doin brothers in worse than the Klan
Can't even stand, in front of your buildin and chill
without yieldin, twelve-year-old children that kill
blood spillin, thugs be illin, unnecessary slugs
fillin the sky, usually drillin the one
that wasn't willin to die, yes sir in the Killing Field
I got my, life preserver
And I'll do my time for murder, these niggaz got the nerve to
question me - bout the colors that I got on?
Now see that red dot on your knot
Bout to get your whole crew shot on
A Soldier of Fortune, I'm the wrong nigga to plot on
Took him out on the spot before he even got on
my hitlist -- peep this
I cock back, you bow down
Bust round, bloody the ground, retaliation sounds like this
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Everywhere I go, all I ever seem to hear is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
No matter where I go, all I ever seem to see is
BANG BANG!! BANG BANG!!
Writer: ANDRE YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, BRIAN ANTHONY BAILEY, MARSHALL MATHERS, ROYAL HARBOR, ROYAL R. HARBOR
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Spirit Music Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Spirit Music Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC.
The Message
[Intro: Dr. Dre (Mary J. Blige)]
This one is for my brother...
Tyree, R.I.P.! (ohhhh!) (ohhhhh, listeeeen!)
A message to God. [Mary J. Blige harmonizing] (Ooooooohh-ohhhhh! Hmmm-hmmmmmm!)
[Dr. Dre (Mary J. Blige):]
Since you finishin' 'em early. - What posessed you to start him?
We made a vow! - Later we'll regret til death do us part!
Lord! - I thought we was made for each other,
You shouldn't connect those, made to be taken away from each other. (Hmmm-hmmmmmmm!)
Now what I'm supposed to do? - I'm only half the man that I was
I'll never last! - Cause my better half is up there with you! (oooooohhhhhhh!)
You knew what you was doin' when you made us? - So with all due respect,
You coulda forgave him. - You didn't have to take him!
He can take the game with him, cause he defines the word
The one who puts the G in it. - Who you think put me in it? (Ohh-ooohhhhhhhh!)
I'm feelin' like my whole world is blinded. - Wonderin' why
Cryin' - pourin' out my heart - pourin' out liquor behind it? (oooohh, noooooooo!)
We fought like brothers, somethin we never should do
We coulda used time spent arguin tellin' the truth.
He had talent, too. - I had plans on watchin' him grow
Don't know what hurts more: - seein' him leave - or watchin' him go? (whooooaaaaahhhhhh!)
[Chorus: Mary J. Blige]
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeeen!) Whoaaaaaahh! (listeeeeeeen!)
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (better listeeeeen!) - Whoahh-oahhh-oahhh!
Listen, listen, listen! (listeeeeeeen!) (Noooo-oooooo-oooooooo!)
Listeeeen! - Mmm-mmm-mmm!
[Bridge: Rell (Mary J. Blige)]
If you wanna know whyyyy... (why I live my liiiiife?)
The way that I doooo. (cause I got to get this mo-neyyyyyyyy!)
So don't worry about meeee! (cause I know my wayyy arouuuuuund!)
I'm just hustlin' e-ve-rydayyyy. - Runnin' this raaace! - Makin this papeeeeer! (ooooooohhhhhhhh!)
[Dr. Dre:]
You's a soldier! - You're prob'ly packin' heat up there
Met up with homies from the street - and got deep up there. (oooohh, ooooohhhhhhhh!)
If you only knew the way I felt before they ruined the crew
I thought I learned from Eazy. - Now I'm goin through it with you!
We lost a thug - a son and a father!
I spoke to your son - the other day, and told him: "Uncle Dre got him."
The Lord must be accidentally pullin' your file
Cause I'm still pagin' you! - 911, straight in denial! (nooooo, oooooohhh, ooooohhhhhhh!)
Prayin' you get it! - But no man can choose the card he was dealt,
You either quit! - Or you gon' play it like you get it.
I done been through all emotions
From in shock, to keepin' a pokerface to straight breakin down and showin all emotions! (yeeeeeaahhhhhh!)
I'm anxious to believe in real G's don't cry
If that's the truth. - Then I'm realizin' I ain't no gangsta!
It's just not me! - But you know I'm a always ride with' you.
I miss you! - Sometimes I wish I just died with' you! (oooohhhhhhhh, yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!)
[Chorus: Mary J. Blige]
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeeen, listeeeeeeen!) Whoaaaaaahh!
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeen, listeeeeen, listeeeeen!) - Whoahh-oahhh-oahhh!
Listen, listen, listen! (Oooooooohhhhhhh!) Nooooo-oooooo-oooooooooooooohhhhhhhh!
Listeeeen... - Eyy-eyy-eyy-yeah-yeaaahh!
[Bridge: Rell (Mary J. Blige)]
If you wanna know whyyyy... (why I live my liiiiife?)
The way that I doooo. (cause I got to get this mo-neyyyyyyyy!)
So don't worry about meeee! (don't worryyyy! don't worryyyyy, worryyyyy!)
I'm just hustlin' e-ve-rydayyyy. - Runnin' this raaace! - Makin' this papeeeeer!
[Mary J. Blige:]
Yeeeah, yeaaaaah!
Ahhh-oooh-oahahahhhhh!
Listen!
Mmmmmmmmm-hm-hm-hmmmmmm-hm-hm-hmmmmmmm!
If you don't know why IIIIII...
You gotta listen up right now, lis-ten!
Lis-ten! - Lis-ten! - Lis-teeeeeeeen!
Oooooooooh! Oahahoooohhh-ooooha-ohhhhh!
Lis-teeeen! - Lis-teeeen...
Ahhhowooooo!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah yeah yeah, yeah-ehh-yeah!
Yeah-ooeooooh!
Yahhooooohahhooooh, listennnn!
Lis-teeeen! Children lis-teeeen!
I'm tryna tell you somethin gooood...
Don't get caught up in the hooooood!
Yeahhh-hah! Yeahhh-hah, aooooooh!
If you don't know whyyyy...
You gotta find out the reason whyyyyyy!
Brotheeer... brotheeeer... [beat fades out]
[Outro: Thomas Chong]
Who are you?
Dr. Dre?!
Haha!
Are you a real doctor, dude?
I mean, like... you know?
Can you prescribe some drugs for me man?
Come on, dude! I'll, I'll, I'll...
Hey I'll split whatever I get with you, okay?
HAHHHhahaha!
[Inhales]
Aaaaaaahhh!
"The Chronic".
This one is for my brother...
Tyree, R.I.P.! (ohhhh!) (ohhhhh, listeeeen!)
A message to God. [Mary J. Blige harmonizing] (Ooooooohh-ohhhhh! Hmmm-hmmmmmm!)
[Dr. Dre (Mary J. Blige):]
Since you finishin' 'em early. - What posessed you to start him?
We made a vow! - Later we'll regret til death do us part!
Lord! - I thought we was made for each other,
You shouldn't connect those, made to be taken away from each other. (Hmmm-hmmmmmmm!)
Now what I'm supposed to do? - I'm only half the man that I was
I'll never last! - Cause my better half is up there with you! (oooooohhhhhhh!)
You knew what you was doin' when you made us? - So with all due respect,
You coulda forgave him. - You didn't have to take him!
He can take the game with him, cause he defines the word
The one who puts the G in it. - Who you think put me in it? (Ohh-ooohhhhhhhh!)
I'm feelin' like my whole world is blinded. - Wonderin' why
Cryin' - pourin' out my heart - pourin' out liquor behind it? (oooohh, noooooooo!)
We fought like brothers, somethin we never should do
We coulda used time spent arguin tellin' the truth.
He had talent, too. - I had plans on watchin' him grow
Don't know what hurts more: - seein' him leave - or watchin' him go? (whooooaaaaahhhhhh!)
[Chorus: Mary J. Blige]
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeeen!) Whoaaaaaahh! (listeeeeeeen!)
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (better listeeeeen!) - Whoahh-oahhh-oahhh!
Listen, listen, listen! (listeeeeeeen!) (Noooo-oooooo-oooooooo!)
Listeeeen! - Mmm-mmm-mmm!
[Bridge: Rell (Mary J. Blige)]
If you wanna know whyyyy... (why I live my liiiiife?)
The way that I doooo. (cause I got to get this mo-neyyyyyyyy!)
So don't worry about meeee! (cause I know my wayyy arouuuuuund!)
I'm just hustlin' e-ve-rydayyyy. - Runnin' this raaace! - Makin this papeeeeer! (ooooooohhhhhhhh!)
[Dr. Dre:]
You's a soldier! - You're prob'ly packin' heat up there
Met up with homies from the street - and got deep up there. (oooohh, ooooohhhhhhhh!)
If you only knew the way I felt before they ruined the crew
I thought I learned from Eazy. - Now I'm goin through it with you!
We lost a thug - a son and a father!
I spoke to your son - the other day, and told him: "Uncle Dre got him."
The Lord must be accidentally pullin' your file
Cause I'm still pagin' you! - 911, straight in denial! (nooooo, oooooohhh, ooooohhhhhhh!)
Prayin' you get it! - But no man can choose the card he was dealt,
You either quit! - Or you gon' play it like you get it.
I done been through all emotions
From in shock, to keepin' a pokerface to straight breakin down and showin all emotions! (yeeeeeaahhhhhh!)
I'm anxious to believe in real G's don't cry
If that's the truth. - Then I'm realizin' I ain't no gangsta!
It's just not me! - But you know I'm a always ride with' you.
I miss you! - Sometimes I wish I just died with' you! (oooohhhhhhhh, yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!)
[Chorus: Mary J. Blige]
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeeen, listeeeeeeen!) Whoaaaaaahh!
Listen, listen, listeeeen! (listeeeeen, listeeeeen, listeeeeen!) - Whoahh-oahhh-oahhh!
Listen, listen, listen! (Oooooooohhhhhhh!) Nooooo-oooooo-oooooooooooooohhhhhhhh!
Listeeeen... - Eyy-eyy-eyy-yeah-yeaaahh!
[Bridge: Rell (Mary J. Blige)]
If you wanna know whyyyy... (why I live my liiiiife?)
The way that I doooo. (cause I got to get this mo-neyyyyyyyy!)
So don't worry about meeee! (don't worryyyy! don't worryyyyy, worryyyyy!)
I'm just hustlin' e-ve-rydayyyy. - Runnin' this raaace! - Makin' this papeeeeer!
[Mary J. Blige:]
Yeeeah, yeaaaaah!
Ahhh-oooh-oahahahhhhh!
Listen!
Mmmmmmmmm-hm-hm-hmmmmmm-hm-hm-hmmmmmmm!
If you don't know why IIIIII...
You gotta listen up right now, lis-ten!
Lis-ten! - Lis-ten! - Lis-teeeeeeeen!
Oooooooooh! Oahahoooohhh-ooooha-ohhhhh!
Lis-teeeen! - Lis-teeeen...
Ahhhowooooo!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah yeah yeah, yeah-ehh-yeah!
Yeah-ooeooooh!
Yahhooooohahhooooh, listennnn!
Lis-teeeen! Children lis-teeeen!
I'm tryna tell you somethin gooood...
Don't get caught up in the hooooood!
Yeahhh-hah! Yeahhh-hah, aooooooh!
If you don't know whyyyy...
You gotta find out the reason whyyyyyy!
Brotheeer... brotheeeer... [beat fades out]
[Outro: Thomas Chong]
Who are you?
Dr. Dre?!
Haha!
Are you a real doctor, dude?
I mean, like... you know?
Can you prescribe some drugs for me man?
Come on, dude! I'll, I'll, I'll...
Hey I'll split whatever I get with you, okay?
HAHHHhahaha!
[Inhales]
Aaaaaaahhh!
"The Chronic".
Writer: Gerrell Gaddis, Ryan Montgomery, Robert Hall, Crystal Jeanell Johnson
Copyright: Lyrics © CRYSSY J MUSIC
Copyright: Lyrics © CRYSSY J MUSIC
2001 (also referred to as The Chronic 2001 or The Chronic II) is the second studio album by American record producer and rapper Dr. Dre.
It was released on November 16, 1999, by Aftermath Entertainment and Interscope Records as the follow-up to his 1992 debut album, The Chronic.
The album was produced mainly by Dr. Dre and Mel-Man, as well as Lord Finesse, and features several guest contributions from Hittman, Snoop Dogg, Kurupt, Xzibit, Eminem, and Nate Dogg.
2001 exhibits an expansion on Dre's debut G-funk sound and contains gangsta rap themes such as violence, crime, promiscuity, sex, drug use, and street gangs.
The album debuted at number 2 on the U.S. Billboard 200 chart, selling 516,000 copies in its first week. It produced three singles that attained chart success and has been certified 6× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA); as of August 2015 the album has sold 7,800,000 copies in the United States.
Christopher John Farley of Time stated that "The beats are fresh and involving, and Dre's collaborations with Eminem and Snoop Dogg have ferocity and wit."
It is Dr. Dre's best selling album, as his previous album, The Chronic, was certified three times platinum.
-Wikipedia
Genre(s):
West Coast, hip hop, gangsta rap, G-funk, hardcore, hip hop It was released on November 16, 1999, by Aftermath Entertainment and Interscope Records as the follow-up to his 1992 debut album, The Chronic.
The album was produced mainly by Dr. Dre and Mel-Man, as well as Lord Finesse, and features several guest contributions from Hittman, Snoop Dogg, Kurupt, Xzibit, Eminem, and Nate Dogg.
2001 exhibits an expansion on Dre's debut G-funk sound and contains gangsta rap themes such as violence, crime, promiscuity, sex, drug use, and street gangs.
The album debuted at number 2 on the U.S. Billboard 200 chart, selling 516,000 copies in its first week. It produced three singles that attained chart success and has been certified 6× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA); as of August 2015 the album has sold 7,800,000 copies in the United States.
Christopher John Farley of Time stated that "The beats are fresh and involving, and Dre's collaborations with Eminem and Snoop Dogg have ferocity and wit."
It is Dr. Dre's best selling album, as his previous album, The Chronic, was certified three times platinum.
-Wikipedia
Producer(s): Dr. Dre, Mel-Man, Lord Finesse
Length: 68:01
Released: November 16th, 1999
Year: 1999