3-Minute Rule

I stay up all night, I go to sleep watching Dragnet

Never sleep alone because Jimmy is the magnet

I'm so rope, they call me Mr. Roper

When the troubles arise, you know I'm the cool coper

On the mic, I score just like the Yankees

Get over on Ms. Crabtree like my main man Spankee

Excuse me, young lady, I don't mean to trouble ya

You're looking so fine inside your BMW

I got lucky, I brought home the kitten

Before I got busy, I slipped on the mitten

Can't get better odds because I'm a sure thing

Proud Mary keeps on turning and rolling like a Ring-Ding

Jump the turnstile, never pay the toll

Din-din-din, doo-wah-diddy, I bust in with the pre-roll

Customs jailed me over an herb seed

Don't rat on your boy over some rat weed

I'm out of your back door, I'm into another

Your boyfriend doesn't know about me and your mother

Not perfect grammar, always perfect timing

The Mike stands for money and the D is for diamonds

Roses are red, the sky is blue

I got my barrel at your neck, so what the fuck ya gonna do?

It's just two wheels and me, the wind in my eyes

The engine is the music and my 9's by my side

'Cause you know Y-A-U-C-H

I'm takin' all MC's out in the place

Takin' life as it comes, no fool am I

I'm goin' off, gettin' paid and I don't ask why

Playin' beats on my box, makin' music for the many

Know a lot of def girls that'll do anything

A lot of parents like to think I'm a villain

I'm just chillin' like Bob Dylan

Yeah, I smoke cheeba, it helps me with my brain

I might be a little dusted, but I'm not insane

People come up to me and they try to talk shit

Man, I was making records when you were sucking your mother's dick

Girl, you're walking tall now in your fancy clothes

You got fancy things, they're going up your nose

You're getting fancy gifts from expensive men

You're a dog on a leash like a pig in a pen

Mothership connection, getting girls' affection

If your life needs correction, don't follow my direction

You got your 8x10, your agent, your Harley

You be drivin' around Hollywood with yo "Sorry Charlie"

'Cause I'm running things like some Mack motherfucker

You're slipping and slapping a paper to a false fake sucker

You slip, you slack, you clock me and you lack

While I'm reading "On The Road" by my man Jack Kerouac

Poetry in motion, coconut lotion

Had to diss the girl because she got too emotional

Are you experienced, little girl?

I want to know what goes on in your little girl world

'Cause I'm on your mind, it's hard to forget me

I'll take your pride for a ride if you let me

So peace out, y'all, but PCP-eace on out

Full throttle to the bottle and full, full clout, and I'm out