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