Lyrics

Dre, I see dead people Modern vampires of the city Hunting blood Blood Blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood (yo Dre) Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood (thought I was dead) Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood One blood, one blood, one blood, one blood (West Coast) I'm the Doctor's Advocate, nigga, Dre shot ya Brought me back from the dead That's why they call him the doctor The 'Math gon' drop him And 50 ain't rocking with him no more It's okay! I get it popping Whole club rocking, like a six-four Impala Drink Cris', throw it up, call the shit hydraulics Then piss in the cup, call the shit Hpnotiq (brrrrat!) I bleed Compton, spit crack and shit chronic And you new niggas ain't shit but new niggas Bathing Ape-shoe niggas, I'm talking to you, niggas Bouncing in the '64, throwing up West side, man Sell another five million albums? Yes, I am Fresh like "Damn, this nigga did it again A hundred thousand on his neck, L.A. above the brim" Inside the Lambo shotgun with Snoop What would the motherfuckin' West Coast be Without one crip and One blood One blood One blood One blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood One blood, one blood, one blood, one blood One blood I'm from the Westside of the six-four Impala Where niggas say, "Where you from?" We don't never say "Harlem" Bandanna on the right side, gun on the left side Niggas in New York know how to throw up the Westside Word to Eazy, I'm so ill, believe me I made room for Jeezy But the rest of you niggas better be glad you breathing All I need is one reason I'm the king, and Dre said it, "The West Coast need me" I don't know why you niggas keep trying me Everybody know that I'm the heir to the Aftermath dynasty And I ain't gotta make shit for the club What DJ gon' turn down the thirty-eight snub? You 38 and you still rapping? Ughhh I'm 26, nigga, so is the dubs On the '07 Hummer, hop out, no bodyguards When the chronic smoke clear all you gon' see is One blood One blood One blood One blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood One blood, one blood, one blood, one blood One blood I ain't got beef with 50, no beef with Jay What's beef when you getting head in the six-trey? And the double Game chain, I keep 'em on display Black T-shirt, so all you see is the A Turn on the TV, and all you see is the A You niggas better make up a dance and try to get radio play Keep on snapping your fingers, I ain't going away I don't regret what I spit, 'cause I know what I say And niggas talking about me, they don't know when to stop I got the Louis Vuitton belt buckle holding the Glock No beam, no silencer, I know when to pop Wait 'til Lil Jon come on and let off a shot I had the number one billboard spot Niggas stepped on my fingers, and I climb right back to the top I'm B.I.G., I'm Cube, I'm Nas, I'm 'Pac This ain't shit but a warning 'til my album drop
Writer(s): Jayceon Taylor, Danny Collington, Delroy Reid, Sharif Emil Slater Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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