| Yeah, Mista Busta, where the fuck ya at?
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| Can’t scrap a lick, so I know ya got your gat
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| Your dick on hard, from fuckin your road dogs
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| The hood you threw up with, niggas you grew up with
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| Don’t even respect your ass
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| That’s why it’s time for the doctor, to check your ass, nigga
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| Used to be my homey, used to be my ace
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| Now I wanna slap the taste out yo mouth
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| Nigga bow down to the row
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| Fuckin me, now I’m fuckin you, little hoe
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| Oh, don’t think I forgot, let you slide
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| Let me ride, just another homicide
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| Yeah it’s me so I’ma talk on
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| Stompin on the 'Eazy'est streets that you can walk on
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| So strap on your Compton hat, your locs
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| And watch your back cause you might get smoked, loc
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| And pass the bud, and stay low-key
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| B.G. |
| cause you lost all your homey’s love
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| Now call it what you want to
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| You fucked wit me, now it’s a must that I fuck wit you
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| Yeah, that’s what the fuck I’m talkin about
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| We have your motherfuckin record company surrounded
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| Put down the candy and let the little boy go
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| You knowhatI’msayin, punk motherfucker
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| (We want Eazy, we want Eazy)
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| Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
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| Doggy Dogg’s in the motherfuckin house
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| Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
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| Death Row’s in the motherfuckin house
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| Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
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| The sounds of a dog brings me to another day
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| Play with my bone, would ya Timmy
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| It seems like you’re good for makin jokes about your jimmy
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| But here’s a jimmy joke about your mama that you might not like
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| I heard she was the 'Frisco dyke
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| But fuck your mama, I’m talkin about you and me
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| Toe to toe, Tim M-U-T
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| Your bark was loud, but your bite wasn’t vicious
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| And them rhymes you were kickin were quite bootylicious
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| You get with Doggy Dogg oh is he crazy?
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| With ya mama and your daddy hollin' Bay-Bee
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| So won’t they let you know
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| That if you fuck with Dre nigga you’re fuckin wit Death Row
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| And I ain’t even slangin them thangs
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| I’m hollin' one-eight-seven with my dick in yo mouth, beeyatch
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| Yeah nigga, Compton and Long Beach together on this motherfucker
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| So you wanna pop that shit get yo motherfuckin cranium cracked nigga
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| Step on up. |
| Now, we ain’t no motherfuckin joke so remember the name
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| Mighty, mighty D-R. |
| Yeahhh, MOTHERFUCKER!
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| Now understand this my nigga Dre can’t be touched
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| Luke’s bendin over, so Luke’s gettin fucked, busta
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| Musta, thought I was sleazy
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| Or though I was a mark cause I used to hang with Eazy
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| Animosity, made ya speak but ya spoke
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| Ay yo Dre, whattup, check this nigga off loc
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| If it ain’t another ho that I gots ta fuck with
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| Gap teeth in ya mouth so my dick’s gots to fit
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| With my nuts on ya tonsils
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| While ya on stage rappin at your wack-ass concerts
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| And I’ma snatch your ass from the backside
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| To show you how Death Row pull off that who-ride
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| Now you might not understand me
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| Cause I’ma rob you in Compton and blast you in Miami
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| Then we gon creep to South Central
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| On a Street Knowledge mission, as I steps in the temple
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| Spot him, got him, as I pulls out my strap
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| Got my chrome to the side of his White Sox hat
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| You tryin to check my homey, you better check yo self
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| Cause when you diss Dre you diss yourself, MOTHERFUCKER
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| Yeah nigga…
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| Yeah, nine-deuce
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| Dr. Dre, dropin chronic once again
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| It don’t stop, Punishing punk motherfuckers real quick like
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| Compton style nigga
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| Doggy Dogg in the motherfuckin house, yeah
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| Long Beach in the motherfuckin house, yeah
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| Yeah, straight up, really doe
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| Breakin all you suckaz off somethin real proper like
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| YouknowhatI’msayin?
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| All these sucka ass niggas can eat a fat dick
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| Yeah, Eazy-E Eazy-E Eazy-E can eat a big fat dick
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| Tim Dog can eat a big fat dick
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| Luke, can eat a fat dick, yeah… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fuck Wit Dre Day, artist - DJ Quick. Album song Mixtape West Coast, Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп