| Hey, Daz
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| Check this out, dog
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| Now when I come to ya’ll hood, ya’ll watch my back
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| And when ya come to Inglewood I’m a front you a sack
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| So we can grind and get away with the cash like a caper
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| Cause it ain’t about the set-trip, it’s all about the paper
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| Made the poverty cease, on the rise like yeast
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| A parvay lex piece, and I keep my khaki’s creased
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| Mack 10 is the lick, and ya know what my set be Connect gang from the west, nigga, where the best be It ain’t no questions asked
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| You down to blast for me?
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| Down to ride for me?
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| Down to die for me?
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| I come through for these sucka-ass niggas who rep
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| Come creepin up on shorty slowly, show him death
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| Pull out the Mack 90 automatic for static
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| Blast a coupla niggas, leave em all panicked
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| We swirve and hit the curb, smoke some herb
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| We came up too much, and too tough, and too grub
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| We in the war zone,
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| Where the war’s on Where ya gun, nigga?
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| Show em where you’re from, nigga
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| Ridin-ass young nigga
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| Arsenel equipped, hot enough to scorch
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| With the double fours on the hip rollin with the force
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| He’s out to catch a body
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| Talking, but I thought this was a gangsta party
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| Now he’s walking around smarter
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| Now he’s about to see, talking about who’s jumpin
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| I’m about to get the pump to pumpin and start dumpin on somethin
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| Chorus: Mack 10, Dat Nigga Daz (), Kurupt
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| Fuck you over there
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| (Party over here)
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| Cause niggas like us do platnium every year
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| (And if I ruled this sphere)
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| Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
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| And wave em all around like ya just don’t care
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| We’re ridin dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
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| Mack 10 and the Pound, dog, cookin nothin but the cavi
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| I’m servin niggas like a host with the pound so take a toast
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| Dog, this west coast and our shit bump the most
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| Cause vine to vine I swing through the woods of Ingle
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| And everything I make, fuck around and be a single
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| From the who bangin hit, to the yes, yes, ya’lls
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| Now all down my halls, got plaques on my walls
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| We might slow the roll, sit back and still kick it But the shit don’t stop till we hit a meal ticked
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| I’ll be goddamned
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| I’m in it for a meal ticket
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| And the goal’s succesful
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| I don’t know who to prove a show
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| Usual swirve a corner and hit a block back-to-back
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| Ya’ll don’t know us like that,
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| Where the gang-banger's hang at They Daz, are you a rider?
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| I reply Boy, hell yeah, I’m a rider!
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| From the east side of Long Beach to the west side of Inglewood
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| On a cash mission bailin hood to hood
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| Once upon a time in the early stages of my life, sacrifice,
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| I feel like loose-shakin niggas like dice
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| Forever in the day
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| Say what you say
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| On the mic I display, Philly to L.A.
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| I’ve been all over from Crenshaw and Impearl
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| To 108th, I’m sure Mack got my back,
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| It’s all about mashing, cashin heat in the stash
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| When you’re in the neigborhood of assassins
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| What you say?
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| Outro: Dat Nigga Daz, Mack 10 ()
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| What do you consider fun? |
| (Pass the bomb, pass the bomb)
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| All day night, and all night long
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| When you wake up in the morining
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| And you start to yawn
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| All day night, and all night long
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| (Yeah, dub S.C.G.
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| Ha ha ha,
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| Take a picture, trick
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| Take a picture, trick
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| Take a picture, trick
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| It might make ya rich
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| Wesssydeee,
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| Biatch)
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| Death Row |