| Walkin down the street, in my All Stars
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| In my, khaki suit, doin what (I) do
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| Walkin down the street, smokin, chronic
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| In my black locs, lookin, (AT) you
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| Guess who’s back on the West coast tracks
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| It’s the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap
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| Still dip in the six-fo', still puffin on the same chronic
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| Haters mad cause I still got it
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| I never fall off, even without the Doc
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| You niggaz sellin your soul tryin to stay on top
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| Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain’t movin shit
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| like the hand on a fake-ass Rolex
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| I’m five million sold, the cover of my last album
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| the only time you see me sittin on gold
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| I’m the most anticipated, most celebrated
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| Most loved and the motherfuckin most hated
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| Keep rollin like gold Daytons
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| Niggaz got the game fucked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser
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| You gotta deal with me, I’m the West coast saviour
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| Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper
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| What do you call a nigga who’s overbearin
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| Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful
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| You call that nigga the Doctor’s Advocate
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| He’s a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
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| The five star surgeon general
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| Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
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| And gave him a blood test
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| It came back G-A-M-E positive
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| The nigga’s infected with the Game virus
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| His oratorical skills are so impeccable
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| That niggaz in the streets call him Cyrus
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| The young don who is down with violence
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| cause in his heart he’s a tyrant
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| It’s not a game, it’s just called The Game
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| There’ll be no referees, no halftime reports
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| When the game is over, The Game is over
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| You can’t put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
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| THAT’S, the end
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| I done been to hell and back
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| Left for dead, you know who to thank for that
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| Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
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| You can take my soul but can’t take my plaques
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| I’m the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat
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| I’m the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
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| I’m the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
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| Product of my environment, you old-ass niggaz
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| get ready for your early retirement
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| Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman
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| Who can outspit me when I’m high off sticky
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| Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
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| I’m D.O.C. |
| certified, Ice Cube (Lynch'd) me
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| Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
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| You still with me? |
| Me and my mic
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| can’t be seperated like Interscope and — hahaha
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| Ohhh shit
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| This some good ass motherfuckin weed
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| California sticky green!
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| This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
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| West, coast! |