Dre Day

Album: The Chronic (1992)
Charted: 59 8
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  • Yeah, hell yeah, know what I'm sayin'?

    Mista Busta, where the fuck you at?
    Can't scrap a lick, so I know you got your gat
    Your dick on hard, from fuckin' your road dogs
    The hood you threw up with, niggas you grew up with
    Don't even respect yo' ass
    That's why it's time for the doctor to check your ass, nigga
    Used to be my homie, used to be my ace
    Now I wanna slap the taste out yo' mouth
    Make you bow down to the Row
    Fuckin' me, now I'm fuckin' you, little ho
    Oh, don't think I forgot, let you slide
    Let me ride, just another homicide
    Yeah it's me so I'ma talk on
    Stompin' on the easiest streets that you can walk on
    So strap on your Compton hat, your locs
    And watch your back 'cause you might get smoked, loc
    And pass the bud and stay low-key
    B-G 'cause you lost all your homies' love
    Now call it what you want to
    You fucked wit' me, now it's a must that I fuck wit' you

    (You better raise up)
    Yeah, that's what the fuck I'm talkin' about (you better raise up)
    We have your motherfuckin' record company surrounded
    Put down the candy and let the little boy go (you better, you-you, you better)
    You know what I'm sayin'? Punk motherfucker (you better raise up)
    (Better raise up) (Dogg)

    Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
    Doggy Dogg's in the motherfuckin' house
    Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
    Death Row's in the motherfuckin' house
    Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
    The sounds of a Dogg brings me to another day
    Play, with my bone would you Timmy?
    It seems like you're good for makin' jokes about your jimmy
    Well here's a jimmy joke about your mama that you might not like
    I heard she was a 'Frisco dyke
    But fuck your mama, I'm talkin' about you and me
    Toe to toe, Tim M-U-T
    Your bark was loud but your bite wasn't vicious
    And them rhymes you were kickin' were quite bootylicious
    You get with Doggy Dogg, oh is he crazy?
    With your mama and your daddy hollerin', "Baby"
    So what that let you know?
    That if you fuck with Dre, nigga you're fuckin' wit Death Row
    And I ain't even swangin' them thangs
    I'm hollerin', "187" with my dick in yo' mouth, biatch (biatch)

    Yeah nigga, Compton and Long Beach together on this motherfucker
    So you wanna pop that shit and get yo' motherfuckin' cranium cracked, nigga?
    Step on up, now, we ain't no motherfuckin joke so remember the name
    Mighty, mighty D-R, yeah, motherfucker (shit done hit the fan) (Dogg)

    Now understand this, my nigga Dre can't be touched
    Luke's bendin' over, so Luke's gettin' fucked, busta
    Musta thought I was sleazy
    Or though I was a mark 'cause I used to hang with Eazy
    Animosity, made you speak what you spoke (yeah)
    Ayo Dre (what up?) Chip this nigga off loc
    If it ain't another ho that I gots to fuck with
    Gap teeth in ya mouth so my dick's gots to fit
    With my nuts on ya tonsils
    While you're onstage rappin' at your wack-ass concert
    And I'ma snatch yo' ass from the backside
    To show you how Death Row pull off that hoo-ride
    Now you might not understand me
    'Cause I'ma rob you in Compton and blast you in Miami
    Then we gon' creep to South Central
    On a Street Knowledge mission, as I steps in the temple
    Spot him, got him, as I pulls out my strap
    Got my chrome to the side of his White Sox hat
    You tryin' to check my homie, you best check yo' self
    'Cause when you diss Dre you diss yourself, motherfucker
    Yeah, nigga

    So I don't want no dilapidated, two-faced, pigeon-toed
    Bow-legged, cross-eyed son of a gun fuckin' with me (fuckin' with me)

    (Ohh, yeah, yeah) Yeah, nine-deuce, Dr. Dre
    (Ohh) droppin' chronic once again
    (Yeah-yeah, yeah) It don't stop
    (Ohh) punishing punk motherfuckers real quick like
    (Yeah, yeah) Compton style, nigga
    Doggy Dogg's in the motherfuckin' house, yeah (I don't, no, no-no-no-no, ayy)
    Long Beach is in the motherfuckin' house (Long Beach)
    Yeah, yeah (Compton)
    Straight up, really doe (Death Row is in the house, yeah)
    (Oh-ohh, yeah) Breakin' all them suckas off somethin' real proper-like
    You know what I'm sayin'? (Yeah)
    (Oh, whoa, whoa) All the sucka-ass niggas can eat a fat dick
    (Yeah, yeah) Yeah, Eazy-E, Eazy-E
    (Oh, yeah-yeah) Eazy-E can eat a big fat dick
    Tim Dog can eat a big fat dick
    (Ohh-ohh) Luke, can eat a fat dick
    Yeah (yeah)
    (Ohh yeah)
    (Ohh-oh, yeah, yeah) (Dogg)
    (Ohh-oh, yeah, yeah-yeah)
    (Ohh, yeah, yeah) Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind


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