Do Yo Gudda (Remix) [feat. Hitta J3, Problem, YG & Kendrick Lamar]

Aw shit

DJ RPM, all gas, no brakes

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda, do yo gudda

Go from your head to your waist

Go from your head to your waist

Do yo gudda

Like you holdin' two straps

Then throwin' on your ski mask

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda, do yo gudda

Like you holdin' two straps

Then throwin' on your ski mask

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda

First off, R.I.P. fo'

Compton, California, in case you didn't know

All up on Durham with a pretty white ho

Made it out the hood, but I'm still psycho

Kid wanna play, better call Tyco

Money always right, ****, no typo

Stay high in the sky like my next flight go

Do my thug, one glove, I'm the next Michael, yee

Gudda, gudda, go bad on 'em

Sychronize the surprise, have 'em land on 'em

Back when bone had the cut in '88, no fake

Shout to L Little, Doug, and Baby Eiht

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda, do yo gudda

Go from your head to your waist

Go from your head to your waist

Do yo gudda

Like you holdin' two straps

Then throwin' on your ski mask

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda

Hitta J3, straps, I keep two

They want an explanation, but pigs, I don't speak to

Nuclear bombs, we're makin' the most noise

Boys in the hoood, I'ma do 'em like Doughboy

Go, here comes the sirens, block is hot as the irons

Swervin' on Avalon, reppin' the deuce like Bobby Johnson

Glocks shoot 'em like murder, got both of 'em like Kirk

Come deep like we on some buckets, ride through with no interruptions

From your head to your waist, they do it in every city

With my Chucks and my Dickies, I'm on Ciroc like I'm Diddy

Aim for his head, knock him right on his Cortez

Not only a dance, it's your regular program

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda, do yo gudda

Go from your head to your waist

Go from your head to your waist

Do yo gudda

Like you holdin' two straps

Then throwin' on your ski mask

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda

I'ma do my gudda like it's my bread and butter

Hit my **** on his cell, little L, that's my brother

Tell me that a female wanna fuck with the K-Dot

Eat it up, then beat it up, my MO, baby, may I?

Two times, I do mines, I knew mines, I do fine

I keep bread and croutons, we bust heads then move on

What's happenin'? I'm baggin' through a bitch and gettin' richer

Bought some toys for the kids, bought a chopper for my ****, yup

And I'm jiggin' in the function, I throw my arms up with my index finger pumpin'

A brand new dance coming straight up out of Compton

Little K-Dot from the A-block and I'm Rosecrans thuggin', huh

Aye, that's how I sound when I get off

Tree top Bompton, hold on, let me get my shit off

Strapped, hope I don't get caught, hold up, let me shit talk

The 745 and Rosecrans had them pissed off

My gudda keep a slug and a clip that holds numbers

'Cause I be in the Porsche ridin' through the bitty all summer

Duckin' from the under covers on my second level

Still in the streets now 'cause of half you mothafuckas, aye

Frontin' with the Chuck Ts

This my creed, this my steez, ****, on Ps

Ninth grade at Paramount High, I was fuckin' edgy

Sockin' out any motherfucker that couldn't stand me, I did my gudda

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda, do yo gudda

Go from your head to your waist

Go from your head to your waist

Do yo gudda

Like you holdin' two straps

Then throwin' on your ski mask

Do yo gudda, d-do yo gudda

D-do yo gudda

You can love it or can hate

But I got it just in case, grab and pull 'em off your waist

Like you aimin' for his face

Like you aimin' for his face

You can love it or can hate

But I got it just in case, grab and pull 'em off your waist

Like you aimin' for his face

Like you aimin' for his face, Hitta

Do yo gudda