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