Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Forgot About Dre, artist - DJ Redbi. Album song DJ Party Remix, Vol. 6, in the genre Танцевальная музыка
Date of issue: 06.07.2014
Record label: Believe
Song language: English
Forgot About Dre |
Y’all know me, still the same OG |
But I been low-key |
Hated on by most these niggas |
With no cheese, no deals and no G’s |
No wheels and no keys |
No boats, no snowmobiles and no skis |
Mad at me ‘cause I can finally afford to provide my family with groceries |
Got a crib with a studio and it’s all full of tracks |
To add to the wall full of plaques |
Hangin' up in the office in back of my house like trophies |
Did y’all think I’ma let my dough freeze? |
Ho, please! |
You better bow down on both knees |
Who you think taught you to smoke trees? |
Who you think brought you the oldies? |
Eazy-E's, Ice Cube’s, and D.O.C.'s |
The Snoop D-O-double-G's |
And the group that said, «Motherfuck the police!» |
Gave you a tape full of dope beats |
To bump when you stroll through in your hood |
And when your album sales weren’t doin' too good |
Who’s the Doctor they told you to go see? |
Y’all better listen up closely |
All you niggas that said that I turned pop or The Firm flopped |
Y’all are the reason that Dre ain’t been gettin' no sleep |
So fuck y’all, all of y’all! |
If y’all don’t like me, blow me! |
Y’all are gon' keep fuckin' around with me and turn me back to the old me |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
So what do you say to somebody you hate (What?) |
Or anyone tryna bring trouble your way? |
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way? |
(Yup) |
Just study a tape of N.W.A |
One day I was walkin' by |
With a Walkman on, when I caught a guy |
Gave me an awkward eye ('Chu lookin' at?) |
And strangled him up in the parking lot with his Karl Kani |
I don’t give a fuck if it’s dark or not |
I’m harder than me tryna park a Dodge |
When I’m drunk as fuck |
Right next to a humongous truck in a two-car garage |
Hoppin' out with two broken legs tryna walk it off |
Fuck you too, bitch! |
Call the cops! |
I’ma kill you and them loud-ass motherfuckin' barkin' dogs |
And when the cops came through |
Me and Dre stood next to a burnt-down house |
With a can full of gas and a hand full of matches |
And still weren’t found out (Right here!) |
So from here on out, it’s the Chronic II |
Startin' today and tomorrow’s anew |
And I’m still loco enough to choke you to death with a Charleston Chew |
Chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady |
Hotter than a set of twin babies |
In a Mercedes Benz with the windows up |
When the temp goes up to the mid-80s |
Callin' men ladies |
Sorry Doc, but I been crazy |
There’s no way that you can save me |
It’s okay, go with him, Hailie (Dada?) |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
If it was up to me, you motherfuckers’d stop |
Comin' up to me with your hands out |
Lookin' up to me like you want somethin' free |
When my last CD was out, you weren’t bumpin' me |
But now that I got this little company |
Everybody wanna come to me |
Like it was some disease, but you won’t get a crumb from me |
‘Cause I’m from the streets of C-Compton! |
(Compton!) |
I told 'em all |
All 'em little gangstas, who you think helped mold 'em all? |
Now you wanna run around talkin' 'bout guns like I ain’t got none |
What, you think I sold 'em all |
‘Cause I stay well off? |
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin' Dre fell off |
What, ‘cause I been in the lab |
With a pen and a pad tryin' to get this damn label off? |
I ain’t havin' that |
This is the millennium of Aftermath |
It ain’t gon' be nothin' after that |
So give me one more platinum plaque |
And fuck rap, you can have it back |
So where’s all the Mad Rappers at? |
It’s like a jungle in this habitat |
But all you savage cats know that I was strapped with gats |
While you were cuddlin' a Cabbage Patch |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk |
Like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk |
Like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say |
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips |
Just a bunch of gibberish |
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre |