[Intro: Dr. Dre]
Yeah
Not many days left (Bring that shit)
[Verse 1: Dr. Dre]
Too much stress can make a nigga hesitate with no time left
(I feel blessed though)
Here we go to the next
A Dr. Dre exclusive with music bruising your neck (What the fuck?)
Rip your plans up, Dre's ruling
You don't want to fuck around with the hands, let alone the gun foolin'
Like De La had niggas plug tunin'
Me and L had niggas zooming, me and Snoop flew the coup
Me keep your asses moving, with that hot shit
Club niggas like to request this around-the-clock shit
But I do it for my (hood niggas)
With rockets
Who learned how to survive and fatten them pockets
With 'x' amount of dollars the ballers, crime pays
But that snake shit'll leave that ass in a pine grave
Rocking project halls, from your sound-proof stalls
Got all you motherfuckers screaming "Yes yes y'all"
[Verse 2: Hittman]
All we need is 40 ounces and a tool to rule
In city duels used to buck fifty fools
Now I let off like white kids in elementary schools
Hit the news like Stacey Koon to Rodney crazy as a looney tune
Kids watch me, bitches jock me for this shit
Cause Hittman's the breaker of the monotony
For a faker man I won't shake your hand
Instead I'll shake like land on which you stand like maracas in a mariachi band
Got my love back for this shit
Like Joanie for Chachi now I'm a cocky man again
So I ride like the wind
In a fly Sedan Benz
Hanging out the window when I turn left to watch my rims spin
Ha, that line got my friends grinnin'
The fine bitches got my ends spendin'
The gin got my mind bendin'
In LA I stay balling like Lorenzen Wright
Lost angels sin at night
And I floss on the timid type
Dominique Dawes on that ass
End your night
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
