Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Just Doggin', artist - Nate Dogg. Date of issue: 28.04.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Just Doggin' |
| It’s just another day in the hood for Kurupt, yeah, that’s me |
| Got scooped by Snoop in a black Cherokee |
| Daz in the back, Warren G. in the front |
| Nice sack of chronic with some gin in a cup |
| Back up, I stack up ends |
| Tha Pound and The Row is my only friends |
| If you talk shit, I hit you hard as I can |
| You talk shit once but never again |
| Well, I’m back with the bubonic chronic sack for that ass |
| So all my doggs back to back blaze the zags |
| To the fuller feeling, a feeling you never could feel |
| Where your mind is calm, and your body is chill |
| As I mob with Tha Pound and my nigga Nate Dogg |
| Not flaggin', but saggin', we’re havin' a ball |
| Yes, all y’all motherfuckers wanna cee like doggs |
| Wanna be like doggs, but can’t compare to doggs |
| It’s like one to the two, two to the three |
| K to the U-R-U-P-T |
| In effect, I steps with a Tec in the back |
| Ain’t no hood got no love, so I packs a strap, and… |
| I once knew a nigga named Dr. Dre |
| He was a baller from the muthafuckin' CPT (A baller from the CPT) |
| He hooked up with some niggas from the LBC |
| And now they fuckin' up the whole rap industry |
| Well, uh, check it out, and peep game on the one |
| They call Dat Nigga Daz, an OG from Tha Pound |
| Straight puttin' it down for the Eastside (Right) |
| But this is just a dub sack of dope sold to your ass to get smoked |
| Now, you can’t see my muthafuckin' homie from the CPT |
| And you can’t see my muthafuckin' doggs from the LBC |
| Check this flow, boo-boo ain’t the word to describe me (Nigga) |
| Remember, I murder niggas as a hobby |
| Bodies get battered for fuckin with the best |
| Y’all jump with the Tec and tear his whole fuckin' chest off |
| Do I give a fuck? |
| (Hell naw) I’m a loc nigga |
| (Who you tryin' to provoke, nigga?) Step and get smoked, nigga |
| Strap in the back, I’m rollin' and I’m bumpin' |
| Niggas talk shit, I roll by and start dumpin' |
| Uh, who play the role like the G’s? |
| Punk ass little fuckin' mark niggas, please |
| Murder in the first degree |
| I step with a Tec, burst and flee |
| You’ll find none worst than me |
| See, motherfuckers murdered and mangled, strangled |
| On bitches like a bangle |
| Take it from a whole different angle |
| Bitches, I’m never simpin', you’ll see me pimpin', I slip the clip in |
| Bust a cap, watch them fall flat on they back |
| Like this and like that from an automatic strap |
| So, retire the Tec, nuff respect |
| I gets wreck with a Glock and it just don’t stop |
| I check every nigga known that’s tryin' to check me |
| I wreck microphone, verbally respect me |
| I’m off to the store to get me a 4-O, so I’m headed out the door |
| Now as I roll with Kurupt and my cousin Eastwood |
| On a mission up to no good |
| We don’t love you bitch |
| After we finish diggin' |
| Tha Pound’s about that dollar and takin' no shit |
| From no busta ass niggas, really doe, shit |
| Trick, recognize game when it slaps your face |
| Shit, you see it ain’t no thizzang to take you to the next stizzage |
| One-time can’t trizzace, now buy a pump 12-gauge |
| You’ve been sleeping on the Daz for a long time |
| Waitin' for the nigga to come bust a dope rhyme |
| So, uh, motherfuckers throw your hands in the air |
| And get your proper groove on like you don’t care |
| But see, I don’t love them hoes, I look above them hoes |
| Keep my mind on my money, that’s just how my money flows |
| And so… |
| Hoe, I thought you knew, so now you know, biatch |
| Dogg Pound’s in the house, you’re good to go, Just Doggin' |
| Dogg Pound’s in the house, you’re good to go, Just Doggin' |