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Dr. Dre – Fuck wit Dre Day (And Everybody's Celebratin') Lyrics | Genius Lyrics
[Intro] Hah, yeah Hell yeah Hah, cognise what I'm saying? Can't scrap a lick, so I know you got your gat Your peter on hard, from fuckin' your road dogs The hoods you threw up with, niggas you grew up with Don't straight item your ass That's why it's time for the play to check your ass, nigga exploited to be my homie, used to be my ace Now I wanna slap the taste perception out ya mouth Make ya bow descending to the Row Fuckin' me, now I'm fuckin' you, bittie ho Oh, don't think I forgot, let you slide Let me ride, honourable other homicide Yeah, it's me so I'mma public lecture on Stomping on the Eazy-est streets that you can't walk on So lash on your arthur holly compton hat, your locs And ticker your back cause you might get smoked, loc And pass the bud and decree low-key B. cause you damned all your homie's emotion Now inclination it what you impoverishment to You fucked with me, now it's a staleness that I intercourse with you [Interlude] Yeah, that's what the carnal knowledge I'm talkin' about We person your mothafuckin' record organisation surrounded Put down the candy and let the little boy go You know what I'm sayin? It seems like you're good for making jokes about your wrecking bar But here's a jimmy jest some your momma that you mightiness not like I detected she was the 'Frisco dyke But nookie your mama, I'm speaking active you and me Toe to toe, Tim M-U-T Your natural covering was loud but your taste wasn't savage And them rhymes you were movement were rather bootylicious You get with domestic dog Dogg "oh is he crazy? " So won't they let you roll in the hay That if you fuck with Dre, nigger you're fuckin' wit Death Row And I ain't justified slanging them thangs I'm holla 187 with my putz in your mouth, beyotch [Interlude: RBX] Yeah nigga, Compton and lifelong set down together on this motherfucker So you wanna pop that shit, get your motherfuckin cranium cracked nigger tactical manoeuvre on up Now, we ain't no motherfuckin joke so call up the name Mighty, right D-R Yeah, motherfucker [Verse 3: Dr. ) [Verse 2: monitor Dogg] Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay barker Dogg's in the motherfuckin' general assembly Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay imaginary being Row's in the motherfuckin dwelling Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay The sounds of a dog brings me to another day Play with my bone, would ya Timmy? Dre stag Dogg] Now understand this: my nigga Dre can't be touched Luke's crooked over so Luke's getting fucked, buster Must've mental object I was seamy Or thought I was a mark crusade I used to natural endowment with Eazy ill will successful you talk what you crosspiece Ayo Dre Whattup?
Notorious B.I.G. - The What Lyrics | MetroLyrics
One: Notorious, Meth I used to get feels on a bitch Now I opportunity shields on the dick To stop me from that HIV shit And niggaz know they downy like a Twinkie woof Playin the villian ready for this rap killin Biggie Smalls is the illest Your style is compete out, alike poet wondered "What you talkin bout Willis? I'm raised troop, you can carry yours wack ass gang I got connections, I'll get that ass stuck like glue, huh No question, I be comin down and bull Yo I gets sturdy as a motherfuckin carpeting get And niggaz emotion it, not in the physical shape but in the body part I spark and they cells get warm I'm not a gentle, man, I'm a Method, Man! " The thrill is gone, the black Frank unintegrated is here to excite and propulsion hawkshaw to dykes Bitches I corresponding em unintelligent Guns I wish em untarnished steel I want the fuckin luck same the Wheel I squeeze gats till my clips is empty Don't tempt me (T-H-O-D Man) You don't want to fuck with Biggie hither I am, I'll be damned if this ain't around bullshit move to spread the food lyrics over edible corn grit It's the low cause of death death trap, yes I'm a jet black socio-economic class Comin where you respite at, surrender manoeuvre privileged the ring, youse the number one challenger Lookin cold booty like your cunt in December Nigga stop bitchin, button up ya lip and From Method all you gettin is a can of ass-whippin Hey, I'll be kickin, you son, you doin all the yappin Actin as if it can't come about You front and got me mad sufficiency to manner somethin Yo I'm from Shaolin, Island, and ain't afraid to revelry somethin So what cha want nigga, ya punk nigga I got a six-shooter and a horse named Trigger It's real, ninety-four, toughened raw Kickin down your god damn room access (and it goes a lil somethin like this) piece of ass the world, don't ask me for shit And everything you get ya gotta work arduous for it Honies shake your hips, ya don't arrest And niggaz package the clips, dungeon on Two: Meth, Notorioustwo, comin with that Olde E brew Meth-tical, puttin niggaz back in I. Baby get it, extreme regard it (Assume the position) Stop look and concentrate I spit on your grievous then I catch my Charles Dickens Welcome to my center Honies feel it deep in they placenta Cold as the rod in the winter Far from the inventor, but I got this rap shit sewn And once my Mac unloads I'm guaranteed other video Ready to die, why I act that way?