Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Woof!, artist - Snoop Dogg. Date of issue: 31.12.2004
Song language: English
Woof! |
| No Limit black sheep played the back seat for months |
| Stayed away from the Tanqueray bitches and blunts |
| Still Mac nigga ain’t nothin' changed |
| Got the rings and the gold chains |
| Now bitches want to know my whole name |
| I penetrate em then I disintegrate em |
| I let the next nigga date em 'cause I don’t hate em |
| I spit voodoo to the most hard to get hoes |
| And at the end of the night, I rippin' off clothes |
| You fuckin' with the realest, from lyrical spillers |
| To killers and dealers and cap peelers, and street guerrillas |
| From villains to chillers, we made millions |
| And paid killers to protect scrilla |
| So what the fuck you talk about winners? |
| You hear that word camouflage when you hear my name |
| I represent the shell shocked 'cause it’s in my veins |
| (No Limit soldier) is on my left arm, I took it in blood |
| Throw your hood up if you a thug |
| And all them niggas say |
| You see a soldier on the streets holler |
| You hear them soldiers on them beats holler |
| Every time them soldiers speak holler |
| Load your weapons, grab your gats |
| We sprinkle daily verbs over tracks |
| Hit the chest like heart attacks |
| When my lyrical hammer cock back |
| And leave bullet holes in your Bourbons and 'Lacs |
| The only thing we give them hoes is a dick and a smack |
| Gangstafied Kane and Abel you know the camouflage assassin |
| Blastin' and mashin', kidnappin' and head bashin' |
| Razor blade slashin', the endo blunt passin' |
| For the cash and, woah it’s bout to happen |
| What you want (?) ugly with that 223 |
| Hit em up in 3-d, now it’s banned from TV |
| Niggas playa hated, I sure hated |
| Spark the weed, cremated |
| See this game, we regulated |
| Nigga, you know me |
| The nigga that spell everything out? |
| (nah) |
| The nigga that’ll run through your motherfuckin' set and bang |
| Your hoe motherfuckin' out (Fuck yeah nigga) |
| The nigga that’s catchin these niggas and beatin em down |
| 'cause they wearin' Tanks, they don’t know what the fuck it mean |
| Nigga, that’s the fuck, that’s about punchin' your fuckin' mouth |
| The nigga that’ll tear the club up |
| Nigga, I don’t give a fuck if you bangin' or slangin' |
| Nigga when I put this Tank up nigga you get rowdy as the fuck |
| But if you think I was gonna leave this motherfucker without |
| Spellin' a line |
| K-L you done lost your motherfuckin' mind |
| Stop the track 'cause these niggas don’t know about my click black |
| I down with the M to the A to the see |
| It’s the S to the E to the are to the V |
| Fuckin' with the T to the A to the N to the K |
| And when I come through motherfucker and I raise my Tank up high |
| You best believe some a you coward motherfuckers goin' die |
| Nigga what I claim? |
| Nigga I claim true! |
| I hang with niggas that’s killers with true tattoos |
| I got my name Big Ed from what I put between hips |
| I got my name Assassin from the way I empty out clips |
| Wear the No Limit soldier, thuggin' at heart |
| Hittin' niggas with throw aways when I toss em I break em apart |
| Niggas get your guns up if you rowdy |
| And when Assassin hit the stores, buy the album if you bout it |
| Bout it |
| Rowdy gangsta in this motherfucker, loco |
| So I can come through and keep it true |
| And do what the fuck I must |
| I bust, I keep it true from the 'ginnin |
| Snoop Dogg, the representer from Long Beach city |
| A true tank dog, bank y’all in y’all face |
| If y’all try to come close, y’all can’t run this race |
| I place my self above the stack |
| With my homeboys Mac and sack you fact, we strap for strap |
| We got your back, don’t even flip out or trip out |
| Or dip out, these niggas lookin' at me strange |
| My game to maintain, I let it go, I sell it don’t tell it |
| Y’all can’t touch it motherfucker, or bail it, for real |
| Biggest mama, drama two guns here I come |
| Put down for my last son, the camouflaged one |
| Mac the don, get your shine on 'cause it’s your time |
| And I’ma get my rhyme on and spit like nine |
| Cocked nine millimeters the ghetto diva |
| Mia X-rated, golden platinum plated |
| Face it, when they hear me on the K-L track |
| All them niggas grab they head and jump back |
| Hollin' whoa 'cause it’s goin' down like lips to dick |
| I’m so tight I make you bitches never want to see the mic |
| And spit, the matter lesson rhymes next to mine |
| I’m mama superior, you hoes is fearin' the |
| Lyrical warfare I exhale |
| Some fake bitches like you name is Mel |
| Battle anybody, hip hop or Glock |
| On true I’ma close your shop, woah |