| Yeah, whattup, this is Dr. Dre
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| The party’s goin on Thank God it’s Friday
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| Keep their headz ringin (ring ding dong
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| ring-gading ding ding dong) / repeat 2X
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| Verse One:
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| Say what?
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| That’s right
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| Yeahhh…
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| Funk, you, right on up So get up, get a move on, and get your groove on It’s the D-R-E the spectacular
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| In a party I go for your neck so call me Blackula
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| As I drain a niggaz jugular vein
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| and maintain to leave blood stains so don’t complain
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| Just chill, listen to the beats I spill
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| Keepin it real, enables me to make another meal
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| Still, niggaz run up and try to kill at will
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| But get popped like a pimple, so call me Clearasil
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| I wipe niggaz off the face of the Earth since birth
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| I been a bad nigga, now let me tell you what I’m worth
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| More than a Stealth bomber, I cause drama
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| The enforcer, music floats like a flyin saucer
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| Or a 747 jet, never forget
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| I’m that nigga that keeps the hoes panties wet
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| The mic gets smoked, once you hear the beat kick
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| With grooves so funky, they come with a Speed Stick
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| So check the flavor that I’m bringin
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| The motherfuckin D-R-E, will keep they motherfuckin heads ringin
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| Verse Two:
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| One-two for the crew, three-fo'for the dough
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| Five for the hoe (HOEEE!) six-seven-eight for Death Row
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| Mad niggaz about to feel the full effect of intellect
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| so I can collect respect, plus a check
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| Now I fin’to, get into to, my mental
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| will take care of this business I need to attend to, cuz my rent’s due
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| And this rap shit’s my meal ticket
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| So you god damn right I’m gonna kick it, or get evicted
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| I bring terror like Stephen King
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| A black Casanova, runnin niggaz over like Christine
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| When I rock the spot with the flavor I got
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| I get plenty of ass, so call me an ass-tronaut
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| As I blast past another nigga’s ass that thought he was strong
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| but I smoke him like grass, just like Cheech and Chong
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| When I flow, niggaz know, it’s time to take a hike
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| Cause I grab the mic and flip my tongue like a dyke
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| I got rhymes to keep you enchanted
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| Produce a smokescreen with the funky green to keep your eyes slanted
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| So check the flavor that I’m bringin
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| The motherfuckin D-R-E, will keep they motherfuckin heads ringin
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| Yeah, c’mon
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| If you, want to, get on down
|
| Uhh, yeah. |
| c’mon
|
| you gotta get on down
|
| Hahaha. |
| it’s like that
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| just get on down
|
| Verse Three:
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| Debonairre with flair, I scare wear and tear
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| without a care, runnin shit as if I was a mayor
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| But I ain’t no politician, no competition
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| Sendin all opposition to see a mortician
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| I’m up front, never in the back drop
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| Step on stage and get faded just like a flat top
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| Your rhyme sounds like you bought em at Stop N Go Dre came to wax you so, just call me Mop N Glow
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| Many tried to, but just can’t rock with
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| I’m 6−1, two-twenty-five, a pure chocolate
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| Your chances of jackin me are slim G Cause I rock from summer til Santa comes down the chimney
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| Ho ho ho, and so, as I continue to flow
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| Cause yo, I’m just a fly negro
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| So, check the flavor that I’m bringin
|
| The motherfuckin D-R-E, will keep they motherfuckin heads ringin
|
| Yeah, uhh, c’mon
|
| If you, want to, get on down
|
| Yeah, Death Row back up in that ass
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| you gotta get on down
|
| for the one-nine-nine to the nickel
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| just get on down
|
| so all you motherfuckers out there tryin to get with this
|
| don’t even try it If you, want to, get on down
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| You couldn’t see us with binoculars. |
| can you dig it?
|
| you gotta get on down
|
| Ha hah, yeah, uhh
|
| just get on down
|
| I know you’re bobbin your head, cause I can see you
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| UHH, I know you’re bobbin your head, cause I can see you
|
| You can’t see me? |
| Hahaha, yeah
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| Death Row, let me know you in the house (BEOTCH!)
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| Yeah, that’s right, we out. |