| Rest in peace, Roger
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| Bounce, more bounce, more bounce (We live this shit}
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| Bounce, more bounce, more bounce (W-we live this shit)
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| Bounce, more bounce, more bounce (W-we live this shit)
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| Bounce, more bounce, more bounce (W-w-w-we live this shit)
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| Bounce, more bounce
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| Yeah yeah, more bounce to the ounce, so keep fuck a ounce, nigga
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| It’s Still More Bounce to the ounce, keep fuck a ounce, heh
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| Still More Bounce, we wanna keep fuck a ounce tho
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| Yeah, Battlecat, nigga Dirty Ray listen
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| I’m like Terminator 2 askin where Sarah Connor is
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| Two side bustas kick rocks like narcotics anonymous
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| Ever since the top (ever since the top)
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| I remember dudes in Karate shoes Pop Lockin to Roger
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| Now it’s 2000, a new world order
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| The birth of G-Funk, Roger created the vocoder
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| So haters slide to the side, let the riders ride
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| Chevy, yo, zzp-zzp!
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| Now can I bang bang? |
| (bang bang) picture Roger & Zapp
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| A dominatrac cat, on Purple Haze and Conynac
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| Dirty Ray, fo fo fo microphones
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| Wolfpac shakin ya Time Zone and fadin ya home
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| (Gimme a dome) — Twenty inches hit the scene
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| Smoke screen, open the do, big gold chain gleam
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| We get low down and dirty fo that Triban Family
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| 2002, Roger R-I-P, come on
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| We pop these collars, what we bout
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| Lets have all y’all falla, what we bout
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| Smoke up ya whole ounce, then we bounce
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| Roger Zapp Battlecat, this is Still More Bounce
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Ah hah)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Yeah yeah)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Come on)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Uh)
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| Uh check, uh uh uh
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| Watch out sucker, matter of fact duck (fuck fuck fuck)
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| Out the window of my Cadillac Truck, and whats up?
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| We rollin paper plates, homies movin crates of tapes
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| While y’all wearin captains savin no crapes on daytons
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| I am one of the greats, know you might be hurt
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| Baby ain’t nobody retire’n in my White T-Shirt
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| As long as fools still feel, and trust I’m real
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| Ima keep bustin big rhymes dimes nuts and steel
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| (I ain’t that type of brother that Cs can walk wit)
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| Man I ain’t politically correct, Ima talk shit
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| About these mucic industry characters, cos there ain’t no debate’n
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| These record company people be hatin, females be degratin their selves
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| Thinkin the desk gon last
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| Thats why I’m quick to put these chickens on blast
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| Tryna tell me «I'm so and so, I’m this, I’m that»
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| But they all jus wick-weak-wacks
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| More bounce Roger
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| More bounce
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| Say what? |
| uh say what? |
| uh yo uh
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| If this was '87 when bangin was at it’s peak
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| This song woulda had em closin clubs every week
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| Cos we speak the really real, speak how we really feel
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| Come work for me have ya niggas stealin wheels
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| Daytons, BGs, what ever rims housin
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| I need sum 19s fo my Benz 2000
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| Work wit me homeboy, it’s all luv
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| I told you 19s, you came back wit dubs
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| When push come to shove, Tash knocks em out the box
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| You might hear me at a club or on a boom-box in Watts
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| Jus swangin, raps over beats that hump
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| Thats why a nigga like CaTash get it crunk from jump
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| I Slam-Dunk the funk like a Alley-Loop to Shaq
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| Y’all fools so wack ya prolly can’t rap to Zapp
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| So slap yo’self, this is Wolfpac Records
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| Rest In Peace Roger, your music was respected
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| We pop these collars, what we bout
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| Lets have all y’all falla, what we bout
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| Smoke up ya whole ounce, then we bounce
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| Roger Zapp Battlecat, this is Still More Bounce
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Ah hah)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Yeah yeah)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Come on)
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| Jus bounce to this, jus bounce (Uh) |