| Hey, yo whassup?
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| My name is Dre
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| Can I blaze some Chonic witchu?
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| Nigga what? |
| FO’SHO'!
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| Roll that shit up!
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| Hell yeah, still Alwayz Into Somethin'
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| Heart still in Compton
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| The comp can’t oppose, dope Cali platinum classicals
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| Introduced you to my Doggs, that don’t love hoes
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| and Firm Fiascoes — assholes
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| Fucked you up with my last video, tuxed up doin a tango.
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| And cash, always in my grasp
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| Came up in the game wearin khakis not kangols, stranglin hoes
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| When asked about it in most interviews I just laugh
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| Now I vacate with hoes with a gang of ass
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| One feed me mangoes, the other lightin my hash
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| Rap tabloids write Dre’s light in the ass (what?)
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| Came home uptight, ready to mash
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| like a gas pedal, get on that sixty-four Chevy level
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| AK-47 heavy metal
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| Who say Dre ain’t ghetto? |
| Just whistle like a tea kettle
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| I throw three at you, tell me if you see devils
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| cause we rebels over here, I smell Chronic in the air
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| that means we takin over this year
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| You hear?
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| Chronic, two-thousand, ONE! |
| -→KRS-One
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| That means we takin over this year, ya hear?
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| Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
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| Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
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| Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
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| Fuck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas
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| I hang among hustlers, I slang and hoo-bang Bronson
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| when bustaz roll through, can’t fuck with my bold crew
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| We will hold you captive and bust
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| cause gangbangin is the active, activity
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| where I be livin B, there ain’t no Liberty Statue
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| Hope you got your gat, don’t let them catch you
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| slippin, without yours, it’s warfare outdoors
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| Ambulance, violent uproars
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| Trash niggaz takin out like chores I meet whores on tours
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| Jeans hot as pepper so I sip, champagne on stormy shores
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| We on some hardcore, pornographic
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| Totin Austrian firearms that’s made out of plastic
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| In these drastic surroundings, it be sounding like
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| Lebanon, makin fools RETREAT! |
| like Megatron and Starscream
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| Oh yeah I scream-on-stars
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| to get loot and crossover like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
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| Get out your car son, that’s how I came to bougie niggaz
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| Act bad one, it’s either that or make front page stardom
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| I’m the Golden Child, chased by Sodom
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| ?? |
| gots my bulletproof it’s hard to shoot me you hear?
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| (By the time you see him)
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| That means it’s real fuckin hard to shoot me, you hear?
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| Light Speed, blazin Chronic through the galaxy
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| Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
|
| Or we might be sippin on gin or Hennessey
|
| Fuck that, where that new shit, The Chronic Iced Teas |