CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Gz and Hustlas
What I look like, a sucker to you, nigga?
Fuck you, rookie
Somethin' incredible, heh-heh-heh
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Turn that shit up, boy, bump that shit
Nigga, hold a handgun and dump that shit
Nigga, buy that borough and fuck that bitch
And kick her out before the sun come up
Nigga, my funds is up
I got my money right
Business movin' like New York City lights
Bitches all over that boy
Cause they know that young boy got a cold strut
But I don't fuck with them hood rats, they'll set you up
And I ain't goin' out just like that
I'd rather go out over a shoot-out, plow
Land of the scandalous, every corner got a candle lit
Every stop sign got a hollow tip
Every sunshine got a hood under it
And you know we Marilyn Jones runnin' that shit
My bones made out of cement, strong arm
Explode on y'all, Vietnam, boom
Heh-heh-heh, okay, I'm ready, ha-ha
Tell your boyfriend to do it like this
A thousand for the jeans, three hundred for the kicks, bitch
I was born with diamonds in my wrist
So, it's only right for your boy to talk shit, yuck
Straight nasty, don't walk past me
I just might grab it, just might pull a blade out and stab it
I would kill it only if you say
I'm more than willin' to take advantage
Legs to the ceilin', ho, throw away your panties
Tell 'em that we chillin' if your boyfriend harassin'
I take 'em, then I perform magic
Head on the freeway, seatbelt fastened
And go and tell the DJ to play my shit
You never heard nothin' like this, yuh
The new West Coast's best-kept secret
Chronic smoke comin' out my throat, ha-ha
Shit, ay, ay, heh-heh, fuck it, I'm goin' in
They say, "Who that?" K. Dot, no roof, new top
They hate, they watch, speed down the block
In a Porsche Box, stashbox, got a new Glock
In a shoot-out with anybody that you got
.45, no lie, no problem
If he got his jewels on, I'm a Black Rob him
Nigga, I'm a bad boy, I'm a black ski mask, boy
I'm a run in his house, then ask, "Where the cash, boy?"
"Tell me where the safe or this'll be the last time
That you ever have a gun in your face"
Might be the last time that somebody run in your place
You picked a bad time to be at fuckin' home today, stupid
I'm ruthless, I'm Eazy-E, I'm Snoop, shit
I'm 2Pac, I'm inferno, I'm so hot, no chicken
Tell it to the Colonel Sanders, do it for that Compton campus
Heh-heh, I'm done with the fourth quarter
Shit, psych, Rock, get 'em
Guess who's back? Fresh new fitted, turned back
Fresh new spinners on the 'Lac
Never knew Rock could do it like that
I'm a mack for real, I hit more pussy than Vagisil, yeah
Who got this game in a chokehold?
We'll make your best rapper submit
Pack up and quit cause we the shit
Plus, that Calico hold more shells than El Pollo Loco
Turn you to a dough salt
Take your ho to the mo-mo quick
She want to bounce up and down on my pogo stick
Me n' Dot spit raw, deejays, Mr. Miyagi
Your records wax us on and wax you off, ha
You come frontin', get slammed like Onyx
We the West Coast classics, you better pay homage
You want problems? The kings of the shoot-outs
Leave your block smokin' like a luau
Top Dawg E-N-T, bitch
We told you, heh-heh-heh, we told you, ah
Top Dawg, nig, we told you, nigga done did it
Yeah, yeah, aye
Fuck you, rookie
Somethin' incredible, heh-heh-heh
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Turn that shit up, boy, bump that shit
Nigga, hold a handgun and dump that shit
Nigga, buy that borough and fuck that bitch
And kick her out before the sun come up
Nigga, my funds is up
I got my money right
Business movin' like New York City lights
Bitches all over that boy
Cause they know that young boy got a cold strut
But I don't fuck with them hood rats, they'll set you up
And I ain't goin' out just like that
I'd rather go out over a shoot-out, plow
Land of the scandalous, every corner got a candle lit
Every stop sign got a hollow tip
Every sunshine got a hood under it
And you know we Marilyn Jones runnin' that shit
My bones made out of cement, strong arm
Explode on y'all, Vietnam, boom
Heh-heh-heh, okay, I'm ready, ha-ha
Tell your boyfriend to do it like this
A thousand for the jeans, three hundred for the kicks, bitch
I was born with diamonds in my wrist
So, it's only right for your boy to talk shit, yuck
Straight nasty, don't walk past me
I just might grab it, just might pull a blade out and stab it
I would kill it only if you say
I'm more than willin' to take advantage
Legs to the ceilin', ho, throw away your panties
Tell 'em that we chillin' if your boyfriend harassin'
I take 'em, then I perform magic
Head on the freeway, seatbelt fastened
And go and tell the DJ to play my shit
You never heard nothin' like this, yuh
The new West Coast's best-kept secret
Chronic smoke comin' out my throat, ha-ha
Shit, ay, ay, heh-heh, fuck it, I'm goin' in
They say, "Who that?" K. Dot, no roof, new top
They hate, they watch, speed down the block
In a Porsche Box, stashbox, got a new Glock
In a shoot-out with anybody that you got
.45, no lie, no problem
If he got his jewels on, I'm a Black Rob him
Nigga, I'm a bad boy, I'm a black ski mask, boy
I'm a run in his house, then ask, "Where the cash, boy?"
"Tell me where the safe or this'll be the last time
That you ever have a gun in your face"
Might be the last time that somebody run in your place
You picked a bad time to be at fuckin' home today, stupid
I'm ruthless, I'm Eazy-E, I'm Snoop, shit
I'm 2Pac, I'm inferno, I'm so hot, no chicken
Tell it to the Colonel Sanders, do it for that Compton campus
Heh-heh, I'm done with the fourth quarter
Shit, psych, Rock, get 'em
Guess who's back? Fresh new fitted, turned back
Fresh new spinners on the 'Lac
Never knew Rock could do it like that
I'm a mack for real, I hit more pussy than Vagisil, yeah
Who got this game in a chokehold?
We'll make your best rapper submit
Pack up and quit cause we the shit
Plus, that Calico hold more shells than El Pollo Loco
Turn you to a dough salt
Take your ho to the mo-mo quick
She want to bounce up and down on my pogo stick
Me n' Dot spit raw, deejays, Mr. Miyagi
Your records wax us on and wax you off, ha
You come frontin', get slammed like Onyx
We the West Coast classics, you better pay homage
You want problems? The kings of the shoot-outs
Leave your block smokin' like a luau
Top Dawg E-N-T, bitch
We told you, heh-heh-heh, we told you, ah
Top Dawg, nig, we told you, nigga done did it
Yeah, yeah, aye
