1.I Got 5 On It
Lyricist：Robert Bell, Ronald Bell, Donald Boyce, George Brown, Jerold
Ellis, Denzil Foster, Anthony Gilmour, Garrick Husband, Mike
Marshall, Thomas Mcelroy, Robert Mickens, Claydes Smith, Dennis
Thomas, Richard Westfield
Creep on it
Yeah, see I'm ridin' higher and higher
Kinda broke so ya know all I gots 5, I got 5
Player, give me some brew and I might just chill
But I'm the type that like to light another joint like Cypress
Hill
I'm steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it
I got some bucks on it but it ain't enuff on it
Go get the S-the-T-I-D-E-S
Never the less, I'm hella fresh, rollin' joints like the
cigarette
So pass it 'cross the table like Ping Pong, I'm gone
Beatin' my chest like King Kong
It's on, wrap my lips around a 40
And when it comes to get another stogie
Fools all kick in like Shinobi
No, me ain't my homie to begin with
It's too many heads to be poppin' at my friend hit it
Unless you pull out the, phat crispy
Five dollar bill on the real before its history
'Cause fools be havin' them, vacuum lungs
An if you let 'em hit it for free you hella, dum-dum-dum-dum
I come to school with the Taylor on my earlobe
Avoidin' all the thick teasers, skeezers and weirdoes
That be blowin' off the land like, where tha bomb at？
Give me two bucks you take a puff and pass my bomb back
Suck up the dank like a slurpy
The serious bomb will make a nigge go delirous like Eddie Murphy
I got more growin' pains than Maggie
'Cause homies nag me to take the dank out of the baggie
I got 5 on it
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got 5 on it
Messin' wit that Indo weed
I got 5 on it
It's got me stuck and not go back
I got 5 on it
Partna let's go half on a sack
I take sacks to the face whenever I can
Don't need no crutch, I'm so keyed up
'Till the joint be burnin' my hand
Next time I roll it in a hampa to burn slo
So the ashes won't be burnin' up my hand, bra
Hoochies can hit but they know they got to pitch in
Then I roll a joint that's longer than your extension
'Cause I'll be damned if you get high off me for free
Hell no, you betta bring your own spliff, chief
Wassup, don't babysit that better pass the joint
Stop hittin' 'cause you know ya got Asthma
Crack a 40 open, homie and guzzle it
'Cause I know the weed in my system is gettin' lonely
I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O
I know I failed 'cause I done smoked major weed bro
An everytime we with Chris, that fool rollin' up a fattie
But the Tanqueray straight had me
I got 5 on it
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got 5 on it
Messin' wit that Indo weed
I got 5 on it
It's got me stuck and not go back
I got 5 on it
Partna let's go half on a sac
Hey, make this right man, stop at the light man
My yester night thang got me hung off the night train
You fade, I face so let's head to da east
Hit the stroll to 9-0 so we can roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth but I'm low budget
Still rollin' a two door Cutlass same ole' bucket
Foggy windows, smokin' Endo
I'm in tha land gettin' smoked with my kinfolk, been smoked
Yuk'll spray ya, lay ya down
Up in the O-A-K the Town
Homies don't play around
We down to blaze a pound
Then ease up, speed up through the E-S-O
Drink the V-S-O-P up with a lemon squeeze up
And everybody's rolled up, I'm da roller
That's quick to fold a blunt out of a buncha sticky dosia
Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do
Kick in feed, 'cause where I be's we need tab like a foo-foo
I got 5 on it
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got 5 on it
Messin' wit that Indo weed
I got 5 on it
It's got me stuck and not go back
I got 5 on it
Partna let's go half on a sack
2.X.O.
Lyricist：Harry Gregson-williams
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafucking boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
I'm broke, you broke, we all broke
So let's take our broke asses to the sto'
And steal another bottle of X.O.
I'm feelin so faded, broke with a album
But bitches on my dick like I ate it
I'm use to smelling fish but not that kind
Look you's a hoochie, wanna do me
At least try to act fine
'Cause I'm the nigga wit the best hand
You poochie, you look like my pitbull
Stretched the fuck out your stretch pants
You fuckin' up my drunk a lot high
You get the drunk talk, dick feelin right, right, right
All I need is X.O. to set me in
Bitch, I don't need yo' pussy fought by most men and lesbians
Soon as I get home, I'ma take a hopelift to the dome
Shit, under civilation
I'm just another drunk hoodlum under one nation
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafucking boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafucking boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
Bitch, you wanna suck on my dang, dang？
Drink all my drank, drank
Who's in the Jacuzzi, all hoochie's
Suckin' all on my doobie, be poppin' coochie
But only if ya lonely baby bubba
Then she said, 'Do you got the rubber？'
Got the covers out the closet
Another flawless victory, a bitch ain't shit to me
She was history, soon as my nigga Nut come threw
Wit Num, Dru, Chris, and Richie Rich
We on some new shit
I know this, bitch was a groupie from the giddy-go
Really though, wanna be all in a nigga video
But silly hoe, you know you got to fuck all us
Pimps, playa's, hustla's, balla's
Shot caller's call the shots, top knotch blazin'
Got a cock caved in like squash stoppin' raisin's
Stay in the hoe, so fa sho', runned a train
All them nut slangs on her neck look like a gold chain on her
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafucking boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafucking boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
Back in '88 a nigga was straight, all in the car case
Face a OE, forty oz, Vsop, whateva
It be pass that shit to me
Gin and Juice get loose off duce, duce of SP
Kick it witg the fortyless, sick wit it posse
Got me fillin' my body up wit color's icy
Hurricane, slurricane, some smoke cane
May not take the chronic to the brain and won't change
It can't change, even if you smoke cane
You won't get high as me
Drink more jugs of the St. IDE
See, I can't even spell it
Even though I didn't drink that day, you'll damn sure smell it
I dare you to come through with no drink, bitch
I'll hoe-ride you 'cause my shirt drink more then I do
I'm lit, still lit, that's how we do this real shit
Bits of Remy and shit, so I ain't fuckin' wit you, bitch
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafuckin' boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
Would ya quit, fucking me high off
'Cause it's cost to be the muthafuckin' boss loss
Petal to the metal
Drinking X.O., nothing but X.O.
3.My Buddy
Lyricist：Delmar Arnaud, Jr., Ricardo Brown, Michael Dean, Jr., Jerold
Ellis, Garrick Husbands, Jr., Leroy Williams
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
And you know that
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you
Who can fade it, two assassins up on the mic
Blastin', askin' no questions
When they catch you in a gunfight
Kaboom, we still mash as a team
As we mash for our dreams
Actin' hood niggas for green
It's Dillinger, forfillin',
Makin' a low outta killin'
Pullin' scandalous jeans
Forfillin' fantasy dreams
Catch me on a Costa Rica
With a island full of weed
Money and bitches
On a boat for sweet
See when I'm yellin'
International help me
No color lines on my
Ugly and fine, you can sell me
I'm glad folks think the same way as I do
'Cause I stab bitches way down in the Bayou
Would you make way for two mo'
Fo' blows, like you have hoes
Stamp a nation wide through the ghetto
Fore youngsters, Hennessey sponsors
With fore youngsters on a
Quarter of the map now I do
I spin mayor loot and khaki suits
Nike's and cripsacks
Wetsuits and leather boots
I block niggas twice with thighs
Buck with a .45
Make you open while
You blast at the parking lot
What you speakin' on
Wanna go through it
Drink a lot, made from fluid
Scrump bitch, don't you hear the music
My buddy, Daz Dilly and Knubskully
You will be thanked
With you're petty pang petty
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
Check it out
No bitch ass niggas, no funny ass hoes
Dogg Pound Gangstas drippin' in low-lows
You ain't all about the homies
You besta check the fault
Pencils, playin' niggas in the crowd style
Thinkin' 'bout the row outta town
With the heater cock bust a million rounds
Dogg Pound internationals
Drippin' off fools
While the dock can bust
The facility touch
I made the game down correct
And kissed my belt like I was James Brown
Spin around with the twist on the ground
Turn a diss in the pound
Dogg Pound live around
Niggas hittin' the ground
Fuck around and get shot up
I tear shit up, you can ask Puff
Let M.C.'s, Mary J. B. and Jodeci
About that nigga Yuk means the hardcore
You're kicked off tour
For piss marking on the hotel floor
G riders, We ride, DP ride
Get the mashin' niggas
Or the mat see automatic
Get the blastin' niggas
Shakin' nigga, bankin' nigga
Quit the heater
Stop blankin' niggas
I'm jack style surrounded by weed smoke
See me and my peoples in the club
Thugged up, suited in street clothes
We roll, cut dough
'Cause we so on triple gold, see hoes
With weed with me and my amigo
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
Who did that, who shitted
Who spoke on the ghetto row, You
Who supa-dupu fly
I gave it to the test players I will come back
Why don't you meet me over in the O, Homie
'Cause when I get there
The hoes will be all off on me
I know y'all got a gang of bitches
Ha, ha and like fabulous thangs
And livin' life persutive in nights machine dippin'
With a pocket full of c-notes
Cruise the block with a 9 lookin' for weed-o
And oh yeah, who got the gangsta shit
Daz and Kurupt and Knumbskull and Yuk for shit bitch
I'm still a player, pop the slinger
Rockin' Hillfiger just like a dada
I rock around the house of rockwilder
Just like a mobster, time to clock me
Daz, Kurupt and Knumb in the Impala
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)
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