That's some good-ass weed Check it out Dawg, this game is a motherf**kin' trip man Word on the streets Everybody always tryin' to run up on me Hollerin' about word on the streets is this n***a said this Man I don't give a f**k about what that n***a said man That's what's wrong with you n***as, you n***as is just like bitches Ho-ass n***as, talk too motherf**kin' much (speak) Study your own, get your own, you know what I'm sayin'? Be independent n***a, beotch Yeah Bitch n***as (bitch n***as) Bitch n***as (bitch n***as) Bitch-ass n***as (beotch) Bitch n***as (bitch n***as) Yeah I'm talkin' about you (beotch) Bitch n***as And you too (beotch) Hmm, Dogg I meet mo' bitch n***as than hoes, look here And I really don't know, but that's just how it go (damn) Dogg, so many n***as like to keep up shit And just like a bitch (beotch) n***as be talkin' shit (n***a) Smilin' in my face and then they blast me in the back (ka-ka-ka-ka-ka) N***as stay strapped from way back, cause payback, will Make n***as wanna pop that shit If you ain't ready for the game (uh-huh) n***a stop that shit We rock that shit, my n***a Dre, drop that shit (right) No mo' talkn', I'm walkin' and I'm poppin' the clip Glock on the hip, set-trippin', drippin' and shit If you act like a bitch (n***a) n***a you get smacked like a bitch Bitch n***as, bitch n***as bitch n***as There n***as don't know what the f**k is goin' on Yo Dogg, check it kick back Let me holla at these n***as for a minute Straight off the streets of chaos and no pity The aggravated, makin' these punk motherf**kers hate it Compton is the city I'm from Can't never leave the crib without a murder wea-pon Huh, I can't live my life on broke no mo' And most of these fools ain't shit but cutthroats They smile in a n***a face, and for what? They got the game all f**ked up, and want my thing f**ked up I done learned a lot, seen a whole lot The top notch n***a, I'm fiendin' for that spot Now peep game on what Six-Deuce told me These n***as after yo' paper, Dr. D.R.E. (wha?) And these punk-ass hoes is lookin' for dough You gotta watch your homeboys, cause a n***a never know Oh, they'll be around, but when yo' paper get low Just like Master P said, "There they go, there they go" Bitch n***as uh-huh Bitch n***a, a bitch n***a Bitch n***a, hella bitch n***a You's a bitch n***a, motherf**ker bitch n***a A bitch n***a, a bitch n***a 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, "Who do you think you are? Mr. Big Stuff" Man, you shit on Hitt, 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 you's a busta slash hussy, soft as a hush puppy Must we break you down to estrogen most hated specimen A bitch n***a
writers: BARRY RIDGEWAY BAILEY, MELVIN BRADFORD, CALVIN BROADUS, C. LONGMILES
copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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