| I’m so proper — I came up like a liqour store robber
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| I’m so L.A., like the Dodgers or the Lakers
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| Man I put money on players
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| On the corner, with the Mayor of Pomona
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| So break down, bitch, in a serious fashion
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| If the pimpin' don’t kill you than I’m forced to blast ya
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| It’s a paper thang, it ain’t about the pussy and dick
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| It’s the difference between you walkin' and you pushin' a whip
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| See it’s a major type of paper, caper, motivator, playa, neighbor
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| Haters hate us, I don’t give a fuck if you don’t play this later
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| I’m to the strip, I gotta check my money makers
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| Do it to 'em now and save some for later
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| Dogghouse niggas, we ridaz
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| We always got a car load of bitches beside us
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| You punk motherfuckers wanna try and divide us
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| The homies on deck with the heaters behind us
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| Wide up, so bonafied up
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| This ain’t that same ol' shit you get tired of
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| The heat for the street from the best suppliers
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| (West and Eastside up, Eastsidaz)
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| You might not ever get rich…
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| So you might as well go ahead and bust you a bitch…
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| Nigga, now if I hang around nine squares (I would be the dif')
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| And if I hang around nine fools feelin' loose (I would be the dif')
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| But if I hang around nine projects a mile (I would be the dif')
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| And if I hang around nine rich business men (I would be the dif')
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| Now if I had wings — I’d fly
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| And if if was a fifth — I’ll be alright
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| It ain’t so sippin' in my pimpin'
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| (They don’t know)
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| We got them regulars trickin'
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| (We got it crackin' on the stroll)
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| And I know sometime when I pee I forget to lift the seat
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| But she don’t cook, clean, cash every night, and her hair’s always neat
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| Nah nah, get gone
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| Don’t forget to remind me to whoop your motherfuckin' ass as soon as we get home
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| Dogghouse niggas, we ridaz
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| We always got a car load of bitches beside us
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| You punk motherfuckers wanna try and divide us
|
| The homies on deck with the heaters behind us
|
| Wide up, so bonafied up
|
| This ain’t that same ol' shit you get tired of
|
| The heat for the street from the best suppliers
|
| (West and Eastside up, Eastsidaz)
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| Now this is dedicated to hoo-bangin', slangin'
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| Catch heat from this motherfuckin' dirty rap game
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| I won’t tell you nothin', that you might have been told
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| I won’t sell you nothin', that you might have had bought
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| Just fuck wit cha nigga cause I stay low gold
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| Quick to blast moms and pops and the dog To-to
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| You don’t know me nigga, so keep my name out your grill
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| If I see you on the streets I’m just gon' keep it way real
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| They know again, keepin' that shit gangsta cuhz
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| I got my head on straight, with my brain on buzz
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| Trust a slug, when it slip the AK’s flip
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| Squeezin' on the trigger yellin' Rollin' 20 Crip
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| Walkin' through the shadow of death, I see my shadow on my left
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| Grip tight with the heat on my right
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| Will I make it through these fucked up situations?
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| I’m headed to Dogghouse, so D’s paper chasin' (motherfucker)
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| Dogghouse niggas, we ridaz
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| We always got a car load of bitches beside us
|
| You punk motherfuckers wanna try and divide us
|
| The homies on deck with the heaters behind us
|
| Wide up, so bonafied up
|
| This ain’t that same ol' shit you get tired of
|
| The heat for the street from the best suppliers
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| (West and Eastside up, Eastsidaz)
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| Yeah, Bad Azz
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| 'nuff said, ha ha
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| Smoke some nigga
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| Yeah yeah, Dogghouse
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| Beotch! |