| Chillin' at a house party, me and my 40
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| Chokin' off dank rolled up in a pierogi
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| Cot everywhere, I mean the bitches was at that
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| I’m peepin' the scene seeing who I’m a mac at
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| This bitch walked in lookin real prizznity
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| With no hesitation, I step to the brizznity
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| Said, «How you doin', baby, can I spit at you?
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| Saucy young tender, can I get at you?»
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| She musta recognized the potent pimpin' on sight
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| 'Cause she was jockin' MD for the rest of the night
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| We smoked dank, and drank Tanqueray
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| I said, «Baby, are you sure you can hang with Dre?»
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| With the party still poppin' we shook the spot
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| Cut to my Brougham and I took the cot
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| For 25 minutes MD was shovin' it
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| She was screamin' my name and I could tell she was lovin' it
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| Cock was thrusted, nuts was busted
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| In this no good bitch that some nigga trusted
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| Pulled up my pants and she put on some lipstick
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| Went back in the party feelin' pimperistic
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| I couldn’t help but notice that this nigga was starin'
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| I thought he was trippin' off the clothes I was wearin'
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| But, he stepped to MD and said, «What's up, punk?
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| You been fuckin' my bitch and now I want some funk»
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| I said, «I'm not with the drama so you can save the theatrical
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| I macked on your bitch 'cause she appeared to be mackable»
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| But instead of this nigga being real on a playa
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| He took a step back and tried to steal on a playa
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| I said, «Look fool, nobody smashes Dre
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| I throw these thangs like young Cassius Clay»
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| With one blow, I sent the punk to the flo'
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| And said, «Get your ass up if you want some more»
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| These niggas ran up, they musta been his crew
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| Now tell me what the fuck was I supposed to do?
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| Cut to the Brougham and got the M-double-8
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| So I can get these muthafuckas from up out of my face
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| Let off a rat-a-tat, hopped in my Cadillac
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| And burned long rubber on them suckas I gatted at
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| Yeah
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| I got my choppa on my left with my finger on the trigga
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| Rollin' in a glasshouse feelin' like that nigga
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| Suckas started static last night now I’m searchin'
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| Finna put some work in, 'gnac got me perkin'
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| Seen a sucka posted with his bitch at the liquor store
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| Put in the clip and go, didn’t mean to hit the ho
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| Fully automatic Mac-11 spittin' fast
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| Make sure I get that ass, then I hit the gas
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| Punch it to the hood, switchin' up now I’m back
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| Rollin' in the 'Lac, still sippin 'gnac
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| Rollers to their right get behind me, I don’t trip
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| They lookin' for a nigga in a Chev, I don’t slip
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| High speed chase if they want to harass me
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| Put the lights on, switch lanes then pass me
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| Had me kinda noid but no longer am I spooked
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| And man, like I said, if they jacked me they was juked
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| Creep to the spot where the homeboys romp
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| Niggas on the dice gettin' paid shootin' twamps
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| 30 minutes later pockets fat now I’m cool
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| Steppin' out the house, niggas scream «Get that fool»
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| Suckas smash up in the deuce and a squirrel
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| Three bald heads and a nigga with a curl
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| Bullets let loose, I get it in the chest
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| Fools smash off screamin', «Trick, fuck the Crest»
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| Waitin' for the muthafuckin' ambulance
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| Thinkin' to myself: I don’t stand a chance
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| Dizzy and my breathing is impossible
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| Next thing I know I’m at the hospital
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| Wakin' up hurt, fresh out the trauma
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| Lookin' at my bitch, and my baby’s mama
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| They tryna act cool, but I know they hate it
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| My baby’s mama said, «Damn Dre, you barely made it»
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| Straight tore back, sore than a muthafucka
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| Thinkin' to myself: Man, I gotta smoke another sucka
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| Chillin', illin', back on the street
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| Strapped with my gat layin' in the back seat
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| Got a white boy drivin' lookin' like a nerd
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| Rollin' in a fucked up Thunderbird
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| Got my gloves on, hoodie and my mask and
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| Mad than a muthafucka, finna do some blastin'
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| We hit this dope track like we lookin' for some rocks
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| And I hop out the back door and quickly get to poppin'
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| Suckas start droppin', and I stop cappin'
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| And hop back in, just like nothin' happened
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| I’m puttin' in work, killin' fools dissin'
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| A muthafuckin' savage, a nigga on a mission
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| Yeah |