Still Dre 2

It's like everywhere I look and everywhere I go I'm hearing motherfuckers trying to steal my flow. But it ain't no thing 'cause see my nigga Julio put me up on the game when I Stepped through the door. You know, some of these Niggas so deceptive. Using my styles like a contraceptive. I hope you get burnt. Seems you haven't learnt. It's the knick-knack paddy whack, I still got the Biggest sack. So put your gun away, run away, 'cause I'm back. Why? Hit 'em up, get 'em up, split 'em up Now. Tell me what's going on? It make me wanna holler 'cause my dollars come In ozone. Loans with the break off, so take Off your clothes and quit trying to spit at My motherfucking hoes. Speaking of hoes, I'll get to the point. You think you got the bomb 'cause I rolled You a joint? You's a flea, and I'm the Big dog. I'll scratch you off my balls with My motherfucking paws. Y'alls niggas better recognize and see where I'm Coming from. It's still Eastside 'til I die. Why ask why? As the world keeps spinning to the D-O-double-G why. A crazy mixed up world. It's a dog eat dog world. It's eat dog world. It's a dog eat dog World. The Dogg Pound. Well, if you give me ten bitches, then I'll Fuck all ten. See my homie Snoop Dogg sipping Juice and gin. Don't slip. I'm fo' the set trip to get paper. Styles vary, packing flavor like Life Savers. Ain't that something? Talk shit and I'm dumping. I'll have your whole fucking block bumping. Don't sweat, but check the technique. I'm your Nick Wright tunnel. You'll never find a bomber rhymer than this nigga Behind you. So peek-a-boo, clear the way, I'm coming through. One, two, three, you can't see Me. I'm a G like that, strapped with hit Hard tactics. A fucking menace using hoes like Tennis rackets. It's on again. It's on and popping. All I see is green, so there ain't no Stopping. I wanna see some panties dropping. I'm coming from LA. She used to chill with Dre up in Compton. All I ever did was get you that hoe. Chilling my dickies, get with these and kick flows. I'm dishing out blues. I'm upsetting like bad news. Cutoff khakis, French braids, and house shoes. Kurupt, the name so all mugs are catching slugs, And I smoke weed for the fuck of it. Rough and rugged shit. It's unexplanatory how I gets wicked, But it's mandatory that I kick it. Check it. I'm running hoes in '94. Now must approve it, hoes call me Sugar Ray, By the way I be sticking and moving. Prepare for a war with some. I'm head hunting. Hit the button to light shit Up like Red Dunn. Peep the massacre from a Verbal assassin. Murdering with rhymes, packing Tec-9s for some action. You really don't know, do you? You fucking with a hog. You can't do me. I'm going out looney like O-Dog. It's a dog eat dog world. It's your world. The Dogg. It's your world. The Dogg Pound rocks the party. All night long. Uh-huh. 'Til when? Early morn'. It don't stop and, uh, it don't quit for, The Dogg Pound clique, so drop the cavi, don't Trip. Diggity daz out of the motherfucking cut. What's smoke? So grab a seat and grab your Gin and juice and check out the flow. I flip-flop and serve hoes with the fat dick. 'Til I die, I'm still screaming that. Bitches ain't shit. Now I'm the mack-dack-hack. Not known about the CD where I'm from. Dum-diddy-dum as you groove to the gangsta shit. The D-O-double-G, the P-L-U and D, the gangsta Clique. Now as the Pound break it down with The gangsta funk, I can see and I can Tell just the fuck you want. So I blaze up the chronic so I can Get high. I promise I'll smoke chronic 'til the Day that I die.