I Call Shots

[Intro: Snoop Dogg & Kurupt] Yeah Yeah, what's up, my nigga? It's the big homeboy Snoop Dogg And you know, the streets is a motherfucker D.P.G.C., you know Representin' to the fullest–like that there You know Organized madness The young Gottstra, hah-ha Young Frank Sinatra, bitch [Chorus: Kurupt] I call, I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise (noise, noise...) You know who runs the blocks 'round here (I call), (I call), (I call), I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise (noise, noise...) You know who runs the blocks round 'here ('round here) [Verse 1: Kurupt] Psychosomatic, it's automatic static Catatonic, supersonic, bubonic chronic addict Astrononimcal in the Thunderdome center In the depths of the dungeon, dangerous, dastardly Catastrophes, metamorphosize into a pit Tyranno-Don, crackin' the bricks on the walls Camouflage–on the side of the livest 'Bout to put somethin' up in that could ride It's time for–World War III, mothafucker! You know me – Young Got-ti, muhfucker! I holds the microphone like a grudge In the 'llac, laid back, so back the fuck up This might give you a heart attack It's real simple – can't get mo' simple than that (than that...) [Chorus: Kurupt] I call, I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise You know who runs the blocks 'round here ('round here) (I call), (I call), (I call), I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise You know who runs the blocks round 'here ('round here) [Verse 2: Kurupt] The tactical acrobatical automatic Automatically psychosomatics is guided verbally, guidance– Visually erotic, Super like the Sonics Potent like gin and tonic being injected through the veins With double dosage of liquid chronic (...WHAT?!?) Colombian flake, the top rate, irate, lost mental state stallion – I want about a million or more Of y'all fools to come back and get some more You could tell a gangsta soon as he come in the door He won't wear Calvin Klein, he won't wear velour He got some Cortez or some Converse on All-Stars, G'd from the hat to the floor You can miss me, I'm probably chillin' up in Mississippi Or Poughkeepsie, or Baton Rouge guzzlin' whiskey I'm a walkin' franchise, and I wanna get paid Get dropped, mopped, and stomped like a parade Persuasion – phase three of the invasion I gots to break loose, 'cause I'm feelin 'caged in Loose in the jungle, blaze a botanical garden up Nowadays, niggas ain't hard enough To bombard and Bogart spots like these Renegade revolutionary infiltries I'll bet a thousand to one, you're never gonna make it You're never gonna get it, y'all can't fuck wit' us Put it together – our squad 1999 Mod Squad Universal Soldiers, I thought I told ya [Chorus: Kurupt] I call, I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise You know who runs the blocks 'round here (I call), (I call), (I call), I call shots 'round here Tell who to pop and who not to pop 'round here Slow down down here, don't make too much noise You know who runs the blocks round 'here ('round here) [Verse 3: Roscoe] I'm a chart smasher, the youngest gangsta rapper Spectacular, chrome 38 packer Money stacker, t-shirt Cackalack'a Verbal predator, fake rap attacker Gotti the jawbreaker, Roscoe the back-cracker Money makin', we smart like computer hackers I came in this game with plans to get it mastered My enemies feel the wrath of my rapture No escapin' without instantaneous capture Don't be upset when me and the homies jack ya 'Cause we straightjacket – if I say it's on, it's crackin' Young thugs, from Y.A., we make it happen Swear y'all can see me, but that's just like seeing Elvis I grab a cricket bat and crack a nigga 'cross the pelvis My rhymes is dangerous, hazardous to health I make a nigga murder 20 kids then cap his own self Who am I? The incorrigible lyrical miracle It's horrible yet hysterical the way I'll embarrass you See me on the streets, walk by, and I just stare at you Tough talk, when there's bullets flying through the air at you Test your chest, nigga? One less nigga Me and Kurupt share two gats and one vest, nigga We astronomical, phenomenal, magical, mathematical Taking your first-born as collateral! [Outro: Kurupt] I call, I call shots 'round here