Dr.Dre Aftermath[Explicit]

1.Aftermath(The Intro)


2.As The World Keeps Turning

Artist：dr. dre f／ where

Intro／chorus：

As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning
(this ain't no) street sermon, these niggas are determined
＊repeat＊

Verse 1：where

I flow like cd's in the deck
Moosh fools in the face that lack respect
Protect ya arm, pitch from the funk
I deodirise the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust g
So leave me alone i'm in the zone
Walkin the streets on my own, nigga get blown
Some niggas say that nigga where is gone
But i'm low in the cut and gotta microphone
Are you gone bust or play bones？
You motherfuckin clone, get off that nigga's style and get'cha
own
It's miscellane and it's on again
For the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in step
And kept ya big fuckin mouth shut

Chorus

Verse 2：where

I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache
Advil, tylenol, peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrong
My world is gone like disco
Blowin up cisco and in my cammo
Standin in back of me was my soul
Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll
Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold
A tar can of hos to lubricate my system quick
Shaky bitches off the dick
Cos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips
I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools
Show me the one talkin shit so i can drop a fool
I'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he mr cream
Come back on the scene and smoke a phillie, g
I really dream of gettin mine now let me tell you what's silly
Me, buckin with my team is murder one
I heard a gun bustin shots (shots!), down the block (block!)
I guess a nigga gettin what he got (got!)
Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke
niggas
I'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone call
To a trick that didn't even care
Cos she was gettin fucked somewhere, you're stuck in there
Now you wanna bust, nigga, now you wanna kill, nigga (nigga)
Nigga how ya feel？ (nigga)
You can't try to be real (you can't try to be real)
Shit is for real

Chorus

Verse 3：where

I'm cooler than most, but i got the shorter temper
And i'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes
Let's take it back to the first side
When you was a new jack and jockin my new track
But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long
Head-strong, nicknamed dav from off the school yard
Witta teenage group i'm turnin loots to tracks
Me and my niggas like (these tracks are laced with bomb weed and
tight
Lyrics)
You wanna know what the hos used to do
When me and my crew came bustin through
All sorts of blushins brew
(a neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, miscellane is the crew)
Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue
This is for the bitches and niggas that wanna front
I smoke on, i broke on till i spoke on
Miscellane packin shows like farrakhan
Where is on another level with two niggas that's on the same
plateau
Now that's three times your tightest flow
And three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sack
Three times is clever (buck!)

Chorus x 2

Outro：

Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt
Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt
To art in hell, where the next man dwells
The place with stankin pussy and crack rock dwells


3.Been There, Done That

Chorus：2x

I been there...
Done that
You got guns？ we got guns...
Yo, i got straps, we got straps...
A million muthafuckas on the planet earth
Talk that hard bullshit
'cause it's all they worth...

No question, it's all about the d-r-e.
So if money is the root i want the whole damn tree.
Ain't tryin' to stock around for the illuminati,
Got to buy my own island by the year 2 g...
Since way back i've been collecting my fee
With the 48-tracks and the m-i-c.
Got a palace in the hills overlooking the sea.
It's worth 8, but i only paid 5 point 3.
Worldwide, got the triple beam, i slide.
Listenin' to yo demo in a stretch limo.
It's how i ride - cartel style.
Full, stacked to the max now.
A million-dollar smile, people wonder how.
'dre day' every day. trips to montigo bay,
With more chips than frito lay.
Flossed jewels in a tire, ain't nuthin' fly.
Straight or illegal - it's still the root of all evil...
Coz...

(chorus： 2x)

Young black rockerfeller. hell, a swiss and mozarella.
Pockets sweller, gettin' money like a bank teller.
'cause a fool and his dough soon split.
So when you come across a fool get all that she be gettin'.
Ladies, get your paper too.
Don't expect for no man to support you.
Keep it true,
'cause most brothers are raised to decide for the pesos.
My woman is independent, makin' dough by the case loads.
I'mma keep buildin'... make it killing.
Kick back, relax, and grow old with my millions.
That's where it's at. you got drama, i got the gat,
But we're both black so i don't wanna lay you flat.
Instead let's get paper, while it's paper to get.
Private jet, 600 coupes that i runs if...
I'm livin' on another level that y'all ain't been yet.
Spend a mill, no sweat, water the line with my wet...

(chorus： 2x)

This is for the millionaires,
Throw a stack in the air and watch brothers start plottin',
Honeys start to stare.
'cause game is money and money is game,
And broke brothers make the 45 flame with no shame.
Now many people die over these dead green guys.
Ignorance and greed take their ass by surprise.
It's the root of all evil and sins.
Yet and still it makes the world go around,
Like my 20-inch rims...
Moolah y'all.
Platinum plaques cover my walls.
Grindin', diamonds shinin', and without one flaw.
Get the cash, the grass, the ass will bounce.
Luciano and all amounts, that's all that counts 'cause...

Outro：

I been there...and done that...
Been there, done that... the aftermath!


4.Blunt Time

Artist：rbxdead!

Intro
(blunt time-pull out your philly)ha ha,mighty aftermath
(sip a glass of 'gnac,reload your nine milli)
Whose soul ever contest,dead!
In me ear dre.you hear me now？dead!
(blunt time-pull out your philly)
(sip a glass of 'gnac,reload your nine milli)

Thought they were moving in and now they wanna cut us wrong
Room for moving in,but that was on-ly mine
They will shake the hand,never really seen and only heard
They will shake the hand,he is only to heard l-oo-oo-ng
Knick-knack,paddy wack give a dog a bone
Long beach city i wreck is my zone
I be the solo rollo which means i rule alone
You droop first blood,mother thought you was the lone
Fool now break for ya two
It's called the ol'rambo,catch ambush
I wish you wouldn't moosh like ya wanna come push
I'll dump ya and leave ya stankin in the forest you gump
Long beach city-firmly represented
Narrator x is representor
Lyrical the kick make me ya mentor
Freeze mcs,don't ent-or
I'll take like anne arden's new chips in wint-or
Or since i'm sun i'll melt the metaphor
The meatphors are meltin,style is beltin
I heard a dog yelpin but no helpin

Chorus
Blunt time-pull out your philly
Sip a glass of 'gnac,reload your nine milli
Dancin,puffin,sippin or set trippin
Dimes keep on flippin flippin
Repeat

Dre's bad beats they rat-tat-tat-tat
X flex lyric they can't come back
Fact：el-elevant,elegant and eloquent no shit
I boots hits,throw tantrums like ella fitz
Nah,the member x but you'll remember x indeedy
Now remember don't contest the (？frex？)
Got you in spot like lindscrafter but you try to diss
I burn you like backdrafter
After that you'll get nothing from me but laughter
Similar to this,ha what's the repertoire-kick deadly wit lyrics
Shot your punk ass like elec now it's

Chorus

Mighty aftermath!
Once again.can't hold us back
Refuse,refuse(dead!)you lose(dead!).dead!(indeed)
Attempts wiil be futile,it's way to brutal
Hear me now narrator-to-the-x,tellin anyone who contest
The mighty aftermath posse(who？who？)dead!
(murder!)exclamation point!
(iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii)
(blunt time)ha
(blunt tiiiime)mighty aftermath to the 9-7
(sip a glass of 'gnac my friend,dont'cah friend)
(roowl,iiiiiiii don't wanna fight no more,no no,oooh)
(blunt time,blunt time,blunt blunt,yep!)


5.Choices


6.Do 4 Love


7.East Coast／west Coast Killas

Artist：group therapy (b-real, krs-one, nas, rbx)
East coast ＊killer＊, west coast ＊killer＊ (repeat 8x)

Verse one：rbx

While childish mc's battle over coastal fronts
I come with no fronts and smash in monkey fronts
If you want to be evil like knieval then jump
I guarantee your punk ass catch the speed lump
The tactics, extract, morbid thoughts from the mental
Custom designed, for instrumental
Yes indeedy, lyrical graffiti
And this one's a burner, baby
Truck, like toyata driven
True and livin drivin with the gat
Uhh, pop the clutch, let the cold crush rush
Then i flush wack material
That's if i don't mash them all to mush
Hush, let me burst, dare i gush
Cock-diezel cuts
Lyrical arsenal equivalent to arsenic

East coast ＊killer＊, west coast ＊killer＊ (repeat 4x)

Verse two： krs-one

Yo, why do they make me wanna ruin they career？
Before i bust your shit let's get one thing clear
Don't provoke kris no joke this
I don't ride no rapper's nutsac yo i stay focused
Beefin without skills seekin will only weaken
The artist speakin over beats and, you be cheatin
Cacaphony of small talent rappers, claimin a coast
Over instrumentals, ain't got no real street credentials
Here come the philosopher hip-hopppin ya correctly
Ignorant ass mc's continue to tempt me
Lyrics be empty like alcatraz cellblock
Too many mc's rappin causin lyrical gridlock
Lyrical syllables interlock in my voicebox
Yet i'm still unknown like the x on sadat
Just your typical, non-topical
Flex the optical illusion weak metaphoric style you be usin
I check one-two's and who's in the house
Like shit your lyrics ooze out ya mouth
Whattyou think this is？ krs-one from the bronx kid!

East coast ＊killer＊, west coast ＊killer＊ (repeat 8x)

Welcome to the new world order
You are now under martial law
All constituional rights have been suspended

Verse three： b-real

The most scandalous, cut the bad apple, we can handle this
Coast trippin goin on through out the business
East coast west coast anybody killer!
I don't give a fuck where you from i'ma killa hill-er
I got crews on both sides together
Deeper than the ocean and down for whatever
Fool i can roll through any block
From central to westland avenue, without my glock
But some niggaz can't survive on both sides
So they try and break off, eliminate ties
Fools got to get wise, better realize
True, enemy lies killin in the highrise
Office, analyzing the song
Look at them red niggaz, don't even get along
Kill that noise, four niggaz bringin the skill
Mad caps get peeled if you oppose the hill

Yeah that's right fool, you know who, the mighty group therapy
The mighty mighty aftermath brigade, letting all you sound boys
know
You're not ready to rumble or test this
Kill that noise!

East coast ＊killer＊, west coast ＊killer (repeat 8x)

Verse four： nas escobar

Now when i bomb like sadaam, the world feels the wrath of khan
Desert storm in this modern day babylon
I be the twelve disciples strap arms
All black on running your spot hit the safe and i'm gone
Like a thief wrong, i keep the long 38 warm
Silent and calm, and blackout when the beef is on
Focus on your rap holsters, notice
I'm evil like the exorcist to the locusts
Ferocious thoughts, are mergin at night
Like jehovah towards the virgin in white
I'm wrapped in a turban for spite
Like a israelite snatchin hoes up, my flow's up
When the fuckin world blows up throw your hands up
It's a holdup, frontin like you down for the real
To make a meal, but when plan fold, nigga you squeal
Like heavy heel, but what's the fuckin deal？

East coast ＊killer＊ west coast ＊killer＊ (repeat 16x)


8.Fame

Fame, i'm the man that takes things over
Fame makes me loose, hard to swallow
Fame puts me there where things are hollow
Fame

Fame
It's not your brain, it's just the flame
The bitch is gonna get your ends
Slain!

(you know i need the money, i will get the money
Cos i need the cash, hey c'mon gotta get it)
(you know i need the money, i will get the money
Cos i need the cash, hey c'mon gotta get it)

Chorus： rc

Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, take it now there's no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you'll have to borrow
Fame

Fame
Nine is fine, it plays for time
I'ma lemme hit you from be-hind
Fame, fame

Fame
A bullet for me, i bust it for you
I love it when you grab my gun
Fame
Fame, what's your name？ what's your name？ what's your name？
Say my name？ say my name？ say my name？


The world's famous, rugged with the superstar persona
Rough designer, the chubby alcoholic rhymer
Big timer, i'm known in places i haven't even been
Executed styles behind men
Oh god, i preach that old hudd city gospel
My look's hostile, hittin remy from the bottle
The fame is like i'm possessed wit game
And everywhere i go, hos screamin my name
But i'm rollin, not that my bald head's swollen
I'm towin, ya fixed up, they'd rather see ya broken
I'm scopin often where the spotlights shine
Me and my crew drinkin tryin ta have a good time
But folks watchin, wearin khakis or versace
They try to mack me, caught up in the papparazzi
I'ma look what the hogg had become
A top notch nigga with the fame game

Outro： rc

Is it any wonder, i'll reject ya first
Fame fame fame fame
Is it any wonder, your heart's too cold to fool
Fame fame fame fame


9.Got Me Open

Artist：hands-on f／ dr. dre
Intro：dr. dre

Ai aiyo butter is, uhh, hands-on in the house
Well check it out, put some shit on for em
Let's get it on, kick it
Ha yeah, hell yeah
Yeah that shit sounds dope
Aiyo kim, what you got to say

Verse 1： kim of hands-on

Well boy you're movin me
There's somethin physical about it
The way you're makin me feel
The way you're touching me, can't explain
Oh, i just can't keep still
When you're kissing me it gives me what i need
Hold on tight and baby do it all night (check it)
This is the part you take my heart to wipe your feet on
I wonder how boy, you make me over

Chorus： hands-on
Now tell me away, cos i can't stop from how you mean
The things you do to me
Has got my body wanting you more and more
Oh baby, it's got it bad
Your love has got me open

Bridge： dre

Yeah
No question, kick back, watch my dope eye rise
Still an everyday brother with my eyes on the prize
Take my time analysing every song that dies
Flossin the fliest rides from hits you memorise
Been doin this since days of n.w.a.
Took it to the next level when i use to dj
Got family and fans from new york to l.a.
They keep it real cos they know that dre come with bombay
G's up, ain't nuttin changed, yo freeze up!
When i come thru, player haters, women one-two
The dotted maxwell from only a minimum of set sales
Clutch your tails for honeys waitin to exhale
Keep writin til the next millenium
Tape one hit when i serve these fiends, stuff mo' potent than
bolivian
Welcome to the aftermath
Aiyo crystal, what you got to say？

Verse 2： crystal of hands-on

It's like i'm glowing about the animal attraction
That grows between us
And then my friends ask me just where the hell i've been
They think i'm crazy, they don't understand
When you're next to me, i'm lost in ecstasy
Don't let go cos i'm about to explode (aftermath!)
This is the part you take my heart to wipe your feet on
Baby please don't make me over

Chorus

Interlude： hands-on

You touch me at the spot
Ooh boy, you got me high (that's right)
And when you're loving me down, i never want you to stop
Just take it easy (say what？)
Baby boy, you babe, you touch the spot
I swear you got me open

Chorus to fade


10.L.a.w.(Lyrical Assault Weapon)

Artist：dr. dre presents shariefintro：

It's like, it's like this
Word up, knowhuti'msayin？ one time for your mind,
y'knowi'msayin？
Yo, from upstate to brooklyn, the whole borough's thorough
You know the time, y'knowi'msayin？
Crown heights, to all my niggas holdin it down
It's hardcore, b-boy rhymes just for you, y'knowi'msayin？
(l-a-w, this might trouble you) this is sharief, y'knowi'msayin？
Puttin it down for the aftermath like this

Verse one： sharief

As i inhale the blunt and take a sip off the yac
My rhymes come to life, my verbal forces attack
Can't hold me back, i'm too strong, i waited too long
Freestyle a whole rap tape then write a new song
Been in the game since...what？ that shit is past tense
Pass the microphone and watch this nigga crack the c
With that ill shit, i came to kill shit
I crack the code, must be the reason they reveal shit
But in this era of mayhem
I recyc' the murderous rhymes to slay them
To all my opponents who wanna kick it, i spark
The verbal scientist in your title, i'm walkin wit it
A hundred dime pieces and the party got the heaters
I shine my verbal styles and got niggas climbin on speakers, the
thrill
Seekers
An earthquake of bass lines swangin the party, i'm slangin the
mic
Like a syllable shotty, sippin 40's

Chorus：

Check it out y'all, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the b-boys and all the b-gals
Check it out now, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the b-boys and all the b-gals

Verse two： sharief

Bona fide b-boy, biceps' bionic
Blast em back, okay let's get it started
Original rap styles comin from my shooter
Fifty niggas deep, i'm the ill kid recruiter
People gather round, check my flow
Listen too, look take a peek, time for thought then you know
(what they
Know？)
I build with skill, fulfill the drill and still then kill
You couldn't stop the pain with benadryl
Too many claim unnamed for fame
Or be soft as baby tissue with no gun to aim
I take a raptor's rough cuz i'lla date the semen
Spectators be sayin they can't go where he went
That's another level of attack (haa), bring your bats
My dj scratch the record like a scrotum sack
I slice the rapper like a surgeon
If he wanna battle, i play him out like a priest in a turban
Too much tenacity, vocal capacity
Ya better take some notes, don't try to get on after me
Cuz i'm the chemical enemical
Rhymes i say are definitely guaranteed to reach the pinnacle

Chorus：

Check it out y'all, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the real players and all the fly girls
Check it out now, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the real players and all the fly girls

Verse three： sharief

Feelin the metronome click, my microphone's on
It's time to kiss sharief to perform
Ya lukewarm, my degrees be uncharted in the centre of fight
square
I rum brass knuckle rhymes fuckin with crimes
I'm natural as loaded dice, understand
Where no man survives, l.a.w. can
Transform, i see it ain't even worth ya triggers
I'm from the days when b-boys were straight earthin niggas
Standin my arms crossed, toss a grenade
Rein-force my zone as a lyrical barricade
You better cuz your dome piece blown
Release chrome beats, nuclear missiles rhymes under my comb
Three strikes marks the villian bustin rhymes
Like shots in sarajevo saturday night blood be spillin
Some i slaughter such as ＊？two compel？＊ blows
Crush your corny kids caught stumblin on my shells, so
Sick, too quick, i stab you with some shit
Doin infinite assault these hard lyrics i commit
When i crush your lungs, i keep my pace uptempo
Swingin my prison rhymes, fuckin mics like a nympho

Chorus：

Check it out y'all, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the real hustlas across the world
Check it out now, l-a-w's raw
L.a.w., the lyrical assault weapon
L-a-w, this might trouble you
For all the real hustlas across the world

＊repeat to fade＊


11.Nationowl

Artist：dr. dre f／ nowl(all right, is everybody ready ＊yeah!＊)
(alright now, here we go)

Nationowl divides this bomb to blow
Adios serials worldwide
Once inside ya ride, usin the mic like a screwdriver
To break down the speed
While labels were sound asleep, nowl peeped and creeped
And stole the ground beneath they feet
Far from the bail, still makin my sales
Movin tapes like weight, we's hip-hop cartel
Takin over, no doubt
Like thongs, they ass out but win amounts with the doctor
Dre, all day cash his cheques
Like play, i hittin you in the head like strays (buu-yu-kow!)
Nationowl's defence covers my ass
And team o' outcast niggas who're quick to blast
Our beat's on hit, keep the peace on
Mc's couldn't find my path (where you at niggas？)

Chorus：

Pledge a legiance to my team
Let's scheme, nigga, we gots ta get cream
Cos worldwide shit's outta control
Why you can't get down with nationowl
Young and old, my niggas who's on parole
Why you can't get down with nationowl
Bitches who own, my niggas whose heart is cold
Why you can't get down with nationowl

Nationowl's anthem, got'cha soul on lock
Still fully loaded, cocked the handgun
Composed like the phantom
While the face of earth gets ugly, we ever lovely
Bitches who never duck me, 'nowl loved me'
In thinkin i must spend dough til i'm dizzy
Assholes around like a frisby
And for satisfaction chew an mc like wrigley
History's about to be made, i met'cha in a way
Tryin ya hardest to delay
My flight batterin, keep the world ringin like ＊？sadaran？＊
Lyrics bone shatterin
Pretenders wantin to be cinder-rella
What？ that shoe you tryin ta wears, not fittin
Now we're strippin niggas like a chippendale
I'm rippin hell, burnin the devil and inhale

Chorus

In the last days, which side will you be on？
Nationowl's on the side that i beat on
I demand put me on
From the door i use mc's to wipe my feet on
My shit be bumpin like in-grown hair
For twenty-six years trained in ghetto warfare
Nigga, i see more green than st. patrick
Pro actors, game of life with no practice
Controllin craps like i had a remote
It's a rule, now go enter ya tomb
No joke, much over i scold
It's some game for all who's tryin ta split ya coats
Best believe that these are our last years
Prepare or get done from the rear
As we move there, where？ the final frontier
United we stand, divided we don't have a prayer

Chorus

Are you wit me east coast？
Are you wit me west coast？
Are you wit me？
Are you wit me？
Are you wit me west coast？
Are you wit me east coast？
Are you wit me？
Are you wit me？


12.No Second Chance


13.Please


14.Sexy Dance


15.Shittin' On The World

Artist：dr. dre f／ mel-man

Intro：

Yes yes y'all, ooh funk....
Yes yes y'all, to the beat y'all
From the ol schizzy with the yes yizzy y'all
Ooh in come funk
Yes yes y'all, to the beat y'all
From the ol schizzy it's the yes yizzy y'all
Ooh notes come wrong

Verse 1：

Dre is chillin, ruff is chillin
What more can i say？ (let's make a million)
M-e-l-man, niggas call me most
I be rockin on the east and the west coast
Your mail go back like emmitt smith's hairline
With jordache devils and calvin kleins
This shit be on my mind like o'donnells interceptions
How would i look with mike's complexion
Eat me, freak me, take your hand and leave me
All i wanna say is 'i don't really give a fuck'
Cos most he be mega
Copped the play station but still play the sega
And in the pj's i dj and blow amps
Bad as ＊？shrimp stampy？＊ with the food stamps
Huh, i'm not a stranger to danger
On the streets i be known as the jaw rearranger
Heavy with the metal, mel-man rule
White boys say it now 'cool, cool, cool!!!'
I bring the fizzy that's the obvious
I got a grip but the only clip i load be the floppy disk
In the sp or the mv, see three g
Ho's see me comin in 3-d
I spread lizzy with ten mates
Hit the skins and i break out like an inmate
Hey yo, that's how it is and that's how i want it
This is my world and i'm shittin on it

Chorus：

(on the world) shittin on it
(on the world) shittin on the world
(here me, yeah, shittin on the world)
＊repeat＊

Verse 2：

I warm it up like humidity
Mel, okay i'm here til infinity
My shit be outta...space with the ewok
This is my planet but i never wear the reebok
When we rock to the beat of accapella
Most reigns supreme, niggas grab your umbrellas
It's time to bounce so where the player, mate？
Jealous mc's still drinkin on that 'hator'rade
Bitches flirtin with the giggles and chuckles
You'll never get the jezzy bare, knuckle
Cos i get a tingle in the jimmy after three days in it
Hold up! back to the clinic
Uhh, aah, poked your bitch in the eye
Then i step like omega's hifi (awroof!)
I walk the earth like moses
Any mackadocious, i grew up with no chips
Shows i turn out
I got dough but still call my hos on my burnout
But can't phone long distance
I'm a rich nigga still gettin public assistance
Rockin shit on a task cam
Got mc's talkin 'bout 'i love you, man'
But you can't get my last bud
Or my last dove outta beats we be makin
Dre and m-e-l got the whole earth quakin
That's how it is and that's how i want it
This is my world and i'm shittin on it

Chorus x3

Outro： (over chorus)

Yes yes y'all, ooh funk...
Yes yes y'all, to the beat y'all
From the ol schizzy with the yes yizzy y'all
Ooh in come funk
Yes yes y'all, to the beat y'all
Every three days and the el change ？？？
Ooh, most come funk


16.Str-8 Gone

Artist：dr. dre f／ king teehaa
Woo

Dedicated to the up city
Straight west coast nigga, ain't no pity
Put holes in niggas, real pretty
Real shitty like a black frank nitty
I give drugs to the thugs price-free
Handed down the game by that nigga ice-t
No doubt players like me
Recognise the great king tee, about twenty grand a ki
Ah, that's that g shit, no doubt about that
Statutory lyrics is how i rape the rap
And get your niggas off my back
And no, god, ya don't pull a strap, cos (＊gun shot＊) fuck that!
I'm very precise when i shoot
Straight out the roof of my lexus coupe
Ya wanna blame tha alkaholik group
But, naw, that nigga tela must've hit the loot
Cos he's actin real loonie
And i don't give a fuck cause i'm drunk and i'm a g like spoonie
The hoodrats wanna do me
So if you've got'cha county cheque give it to me

Chorus：

Now baby, don't trip, it's king tee with the gangsta shit
Ain't fuckin with nothin but them platinum hits
And the two dog groan, a 50 gat to your dome
That nigga on the mic str-8 gone
＊repeat＊

Huh, so i guess i earned the title 'og'
Been down for ten years, this my fifth lp
I'ma get this one easy
A real motherfuckin g, r-rock tee
Now all these fools talkin 'bout they some killers
Car stealers, big time drug dealers
Bitch ass niggas keep it real, don't lie
You ain't killin shit and they gon' let shit die
You ask 'who the hell am i？'
They call me 'big bone' and on my worst night i fades em all
And i come thru ya hood like a locc ass g
Rip any fool that calls hisself an mc
It's only one way, let's have gun play
I make it play, nigga, fuck what you got to say
I got a mad crew of murderers, ex-burglars
Puttin soft niggas outta service

Chorus：

Now baby, don't trip, it's king tee with the gangsta shit
Ain't fuckin with nothin but them platinum hits
And the two dog groan, all the fuckin chips blown
That nigga on the mic str-8 gone
Baby, don't trip, it's king tee with the gangsta shit
Ain't fuckin with nothin but them platinum hits
And the two dog groan, sittin on chrome
That nigga on the mic str-8 gone

My whole crew lives illegal
Strapped with the bulletproof vest in the front and back regal
Smokin that sticky green grass
Hittin switches, bumpin on cuts from the past
We smoke leaf cos we live like g's
Super-soft niggas become enemies
I hit a lick on the east for ten ki's
Now everything i drive is on deez
I'ma make you believe, i gotta put it down like a real nigga
should
My dope spot in every nigga's hood
I don't waste time, i need to get what's mine
Fourteen shells from behind
Leave you in the blind, str-8 paralysed from ya spine
A partner of organised crime
Ya hear it all the time but now ya gotta hear it from the truth
Til my nigga karl phat's respect due

Chorus：

Now baby, don't trip, it's king tee with the gangsta shit
Ain't fuckin with nothin but them platinum hits
And the two dog groan, 50 gat to the dome
That nigga on the mic str-8 gone
(repeat 4x)

And i'm gone