Countdown E

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, Four, three, two, One. Snoop Dogg! Here we go. Nigga, understand. West Coast son of Sam, drummin' with a hundred Bands. 'Cause that ain't shit to a real Crip, Cuz. You swallow every clip before a nigga slip, Cuz. LBC, yeah, we get love. Two, one, three, rest in peace, Nate. It's real in the field, keep your cleats laced. Crack a bitch, hit the switch and make the Back scrape down. Smoke a pound when I move around, yeah. The world is my lounge chair. Real sharks turn guppies, y'all drown here. When every day to me is New Year's Eve, Swizzy the countdown. Ten, nine, Eight, seven, six, five, four, Three, two, One. Snoop Dogg! Now I'm back, gettin' another bag. Glock in the grip, never gon' slip, I put The on quick. C's up, G's up, B's up, oh. He's up, we's up, East up. Get a real woman, don't trust these hoes. And when you're 'round the cops, don't say three Much. It gets cold for a winner in the Winter. For a rich Crip chicken dinner, big dog. Pick of the litter, stop drinkin' 'cause my liver. Act up and I bring back the savage like A rental. Gold and black flannel, grip-grippin' on The handle. Sellin' weed, sellin' songs, got shows On four channels like. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, Four, three, two. Countdown. One. Snoop Dogg! Go crazy in this motherfucker right now. Go crazy in this bitch motherfuckin' now. Go crazy in this bitch right, right now. Go crazy in this bitch right, right C-R-I-P. Y'all ain't gon' never see a G like me Again. So get a glimpse of a winner, A rich Crip chicken dinner. Swizzy the countdown. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, Four, three, two. Countdown. One. Snoop Dogg!