Ho'S A Housewife - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Ho'S A Housewife
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Brian Bailey, Melvin Charles Bradford, Ricardo Emmanuel J Brown, Tracy Lynn Curry, Andre Romell Young

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yo, this is for the bitches, he just can't tell 'em apart
So, I hollered at the lil' homey Marl
I said what the fuck man? Let's spit this nigga some game

I had a dream of hoes, I had to screen my hoes
I've seen my hoes in all kinds of clothes
Lil' almond joy, I'd sure enjoy
If you blew my balls, right through my drawers

Come down to the mansion, chill at the stop
From the way she be blowing, I know she does it a lot
I have a eight and a half, nine and three quarters
The hoes starting callin', when I start boss ballin'

Give me some head, give me some cash, give me some ass
Pass it to Daz, pass it to Snoop, or pass it to Nate
Hoes eat dick like eggs and steak

And ain't shit new, I thought you knew
I knew you would, you wish you could
Break a G down, break me down
But I'ma see you on the rebound, DP style

Now this, this, is, one of them occasions
Where the homey's not doing it right
I mean he found him a hoe that he like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife

And when it all boils down you go find in the end
A bitch is a bitch, but a dog is a man's best friend
So what you found a hoe that you like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife

Now there's bitches of all kinds, races and creeds
Bitches ain't shit, bitches eat dick
Take a second look, I can't stand a hoe that can't cook
While you betting on niggas, setting on niggas

And you tell 'em all this bullshit, you so in love
Hoe please, I know you didn't think I didn't, no tease
I'm a G, hoe, you should have know now
I'ma holla at you, feena get my dick blown back

And you can do the same thing, the homies don't mind
Just give 'em the word, and they'll be waiting in line
I can see right through you, do you, 'cause you want to do me
Besides right now I'm in the bitches eating coochie

Psychedelic high, bitch, real G's do it like this
And I'm coming through with a fifth of some bomb ass sticky
Just to get a bomb ass quicky, niggas like fucking hoes
That give 'em hickies, really?

Nigga that's silly, you can't make a hoe a housewife
And I ain't got to tell you twice
How could ya respect ya bitch, before you check ya bitch
Niggas like me and the homies might connect ya bitch

Got diamond studded pimp rings, hoes on the strip man
Lots of cash to get man, lots of game to spit man
It's a pimp thing

Now this, this, is, one of them occasions
Where the homey's not doing it right
I mean he found him a hoe that he like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife

And when it all boils down you go find in the end
A bitch is a bitch, but a dog is a man's best friend
So what you found a hoe that you like
But you can't make a hoe a housewife

I mean, man, I found so many hoes, you know
I ran across so many hoes you know
I said, ?Yo, baby, yo, my lady, yo, my bitch?
Yo, check it out, yo, all you hoes

All these bitches now a days
I been noticing motherfuckers, man, I mean
It's like they want to set it off
But don't set it off on me, motherfucker

I ain't did nothing to you, I want to make you better
I want to include you, baby, in the program
Oh but yet in still you wanna act like a bitch, bitch
Lil' bitch, yo, if you goin' be a bitch, be a bitch

Be a bitch, be a bitch, bitch, lil bitch
I've met so many hoes, so many bitches
What's wrong with these hoes?
What's wrong with these bitches?

I'ma feena let my homeboy
Joe Montana speak to the hoes, speak to the hoes Joe
Oh my God, oh my God, Joe Montana
You know me, Joe Montana, eh listen
Joe Motherfucking tana got the hoes man

I got the fucking coochie, I got the coochie and the loochie
And I'm fucking 'em all night
Woke her up again, bitches Godi rollin' you up
I'm fucking hoes up, yeah

Ayo listen, I'm spittin' game look
Eh listen the only thing I want is you
And if I can't have you, then you can't me
And me is the world, and if you want the world

Then roll, and if you can't roll through
The worst break through the worst pop
Then yous a fucking hoe, really though
Bitch

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Ya Can'T Trust Nobody - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Ya Can'T Trust Nobody
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Delmar Arnaud, Priest Brooks, Ricardo Brown

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Man, what you need, man?
Yo' bitch ass always come around here
Wit' this whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit shit
Nigga come around here with a twenty sack of somethin' nigga
My bills gotta get paid motherfucker
I'm outta here, catch me next week beotch

Hop in my Chevy get to wheelin' down the block
Makin' sales, whether slangin' weed or rocks
Clockin' major strapped up, me and my niggaz in the house
Might as well back up, bustin' on niggaz if they act up
On a mission with my gang, around here we run thangs
Get paid, every night, where we hang

'Cause it's a street thang, cops and automatic weapon
Keep a nigga intact, for these niggaz half-steppin'
Daz Dillinger, got sewed up for real
Dealers servin' these niggaz for a quarter a mill'
Ninety-eight my motto to kill, that's how it is
Fuck my family, fuck my friends, when my dope come in

You feel like fuck trust, a nigga lose his life
Tryin' to trust on motherfuckers like us
Stackin', stolen stack stackin' it ain't nuttin' but murders
Kidnappings jackings and vault cracking
Crackin' up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts

The dark parts of the motherfuckin' park
The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now
With somethin' in my right palm to keep y'all seated down
Repeated, headhuntin', huntin' for heads
Shot in the chest neck arm and legs

Ain't no fakin', we all out to get paid
Wettin' niggaz what we do nowadays
(Nigga)

Around here, you can't trust nobody
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody
(Somebody)
Whether it's weed or your life or narcotics
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody

We jack a nigga for a half a thang, we back up in this
With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million
Now we set, we relaxed chillin', livin' the boss life
Every day every night me and the Columbians take flight
Eight hundred ki's to fly across seas
When I flip it I make about twelve million G's
I'm a two thousand Ricky Ross, transportin' the sauce
And it pay to be the boss cause when yo' ass get crossed
Every nigga on the street gets paid

A couple pieces spread, bear arms nigga, warfare nigga
Shut down the alarms nigga
Time to hit off, get off then break off
If he don't kick in the bread then take off
Columbian ties, Columbian mob members in Columbian neckties
Columbians disfigured, Daz MIDI machine Dillinger
Two shotty Young Gotti, 'bout to put it on somebody

And my mindstate today is fuck everybody

Around here, you can't trust nobody
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody
(Somebody)
Whether it's weed or your life or narcotics
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody

Around here, you can't trust nobody
Anybody's somebody tryin to jack somebody
(Somebody)
Whether it's weed or your life or narcotics
Anyway you get, you can't trust nobody

Shit, who the fuck at the door?
Aww man, the police, fool
C'mon get out of here man c'mon
Flush the shit, flush the coke

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Who Ride Wit Us - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Who Ride Wit Us
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Delmar Arnaud, Ricardo Brown, Fredrick Nassar, Jamarr Stamps

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Ride wit us, who ride wit us?

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

When the six-tray bounce, the street scrapin' the bumper
Wit the sound for the summer that be thumpin' and hummin'
Hoppin up the 'Shaw on a Sunday, what a fun day
Dip skip trippin' and whippin' down the one-way

Diggy Daz a busta ain't had enough against
Rough and rough but it's never too much
Daz Kurupt, Kurupt and Daz on that ass
We clash blast suckers just like a head on crash

This ain't back in the day, you get taught and sprayed
AK front to the back 'cause we hard to fade
We enormous, we attackin' it plus we swarmin'
To rumble in the jungle like Ali and Foreman

We rippin' it up, we be givin' it up
On the daily homeboy we be givin' it up
We be cuttin' it up, scufflin' to muffle it up
Homeboy Diggy Daz
(Now with Kurupt)

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

Livin' it up, shakin', makin' the hood turn
Boil and burn, two buckets of yearn
Flippin', stickin' fools for chicken, scrapin' the curbs
Scrappin' for the domes straight to the head Thunderbird

I'm on it homey, me and my homegirl Diamond
Down with a nigga damn near before a nigga was rhymin'
Daz, my closest homeboy
California lickin' switches a couple toys

I'm tired retirin' a couple jerseys
Went from the sunny state to Jersey, puffin' hershey
Let off, get off or get spin off
Spit off, set off, spun off the chest, off the roof

A hundred and seventy-eight proof of boost
Gangster Daz and Kurupt let loose
This is it, short change dip wit us
Sip wit it us, cock your heat or spit wit us

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

I'm tired of this, I'm tired of that
(This, that)
I'm 'bout to bust, fool where's the strap
G fo' flow for sho', bounce galo'
Up and down stairs beats everywhere I go

Calico excursions, different diversions
Homicidal resurgance, swerve and see my homey
On the corner chippin' the curb and any busta
Get close enough we servin'

Homey don't get nervous
Beware, that's Kurupt, fool beware
Rippin' it up fool so you better beware
Of my crew, gray and blue'd up get chewed up
You and your all red crew get bruised up

I'm the one you love to hate so give me mine
And pay dues and now I'm livin' the life of crime
Switched up, hit 'em up, blast or get 'em up
Forty-five, Tec-Nines blast to hit 'em up, aww yeah

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?
Aww yeah, do you wanna ride wit us?
Who ride wit us?

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It Ain'T About You - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: It Ain'T About You
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Priest Joseph Brooks, Ricardo Brown, Tray Davis

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yea
Ay, Soopafly
Yup
Ay, what's the name of that song that goes
Dada-dada-da-da-da, dadada-da-da
Dada-dada-da-da-da
It ain't about you?
That's the one you rappin' on?
Yea
Oh, yea, that's tight
You like that?
Yea

Check, check, check, check, check
Microphone, check, check, check, check, check
1, 2, check, check, check, check, check
Live in the place to be
Soopafly, comin' at ya
I don't stop and I don't quit
Comin' with that dogg pound gangsta shit
Yea, peep game

Check, I break a nigga neck
I keep a nine in my pocket and a home deck
I like to rock a show, I'm stackin' c-notes
It's Soopafly mothafucka if you didn't know
Now peep so sweet unique
I doubt if you could top the peak
Keep 'em in check
No sweat cock back fist connected to cheek, they sleep

Kick 'em in they ass wake up, uh now
Let me take you on a journey block to block
Show you how to pack heat, drop and 6 4 hop
Cut it up, chop, my homie got it, Tray don't stop
Had them bitches dope fiending like I'm slangin' them rocks
Straight from the L we don't take no shit
We off in the cut waitin' for y'all niggas to trip
We the last mothafuckas you want to fuck with

When you in close range you best to duck quick
Or get smashed your last chance to forfeit
Game over, I knock a nigga from drunk to sober
I hope I don't have to maneuver the choker
If you wanna dance I do the polka
Stickin' fuck bitch made Soop look like a switchblade

Can I ride in your car?
Girl I've gone too far
Can I smoke on your weed?
Nah, that ain't what you need
Can I borrow a dollar?
No, but you can eat this dick
While I smash my shit
And I pop in my car

Can I give you my number?
Yea, next summer
But I'm hungry baby
Sh, me too, that's crazy
So open up the door 'cuz I'm ready to go
Aight then, but I ain't got no money
Ain't you treatin' baby?
Hell no

Bitch take another route
You ain't even what this song's about
Bitch, I'm on a ride, dip and glidin' through the hood
Smokin' until the sun come out

Bitch please
Got her speakin' in Chinese
They like please
Yea, just pluck 'em off
Mothafuck all you hoes
Fuck 'em all
This is nothing but true game
This stainless thing got stained

The bitch gobble the best, she won a contest
For the best jaws in the West
The homie said, "Watch my head"
But instead, I got a 45 caliber lead spitta
A nigga feelin' bitter, shitty as some kitty litter
Take off, got a Adolf Hitler

Center of attraction
Multiplications then subtractions
From the blast then the smash
And the cash, and the credit
The bitch on my dick
I'm like bitch, forget it
Let it lose bitch, won't you let it
For what you let it
I get a bad bitch from Connecticut

A typical hoe, I'm only in it for the blow
The bitch was only in it for the blow
I gave her some blow then let her blow
Then she turned blue
On the speed I grabbed the heater and then flew

Can I ride in your car?
Girl I've gone too far
Can I smoke on your weed?
Nah, that ain't what you need
Can I borrow a dollar?
No, but you can eat this dick
While I smash my shit
And I pop in my car

Can I give you my number?
Yea, next summer
But I'm hungry baby
Sh, me too, that's crazy
So open up the door 'cuz I'm ready to go
Aight then, but I ain't got no money
Ain't you treatin' baby?
Hell no

Bitch take another route
You ain't even what this song's about
I'm on a ride, dip and glidin' through the hood
Smokin' until the sun come out

Now all salute the supreme general that got style
And watch how I rock and lock the block down
Tightly to fight me will 'cause disaster
No chance to surpass the vocab I master
As the sun rotate, took my guns off safe
Been a thug since 8, always drug my weight
I state the facts, mothafuck a platinum plaque
Always got my stack jackin' off from havin' a sack

Niggas act as if they back is stiff
And can't put work in
Shake the turf then
get to tuckin' they shirts in
But I'ma stay bangin'
The game that I'm claimin'
Gold chain swangin'
While the six trey hangin'

Back bumpa, impact the dumpa
In the stash spot mash out
Knock it locked up with the ass drop

Can I ride in your car?
Bitch I'm gone too far
Can I smoke on your weed?
Nah, this ain't what you need
Can I borrow a dollar?
Nah, but you can eat this dick
While I dip in my shit
And uh, pop my cop off

Can I give you my number?
Get at me next summer
But I'm hungry baby
Yea, me too, that's crazy
So open up the door 'cuz I'm ready to go
Aight, but I ain't got no money
Ain't you treatin' baby?
Hell no

Bitch take another route
You ain't even what this song's about
I'm on a ride, dip and glidin' through the hood
Smokin' until the sun come out

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Represent Dat G. C. - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Represent Dat G. C.
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Tray Davis, Ricardo Brown, James Savage, Warren G Calvin Broadus, Priest Joseph Brooks, Fred Nassar

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Oh y'all just wanna do with out the beat
Uh well fuck it we gon' do it like this
On radio station motherfuckin' 187.4 bitch
W Ballz part two huh? Peep game broadcasting
Provided by mother fucking Enema huh?
(Enema)

Enema not Enema Enema
I'm sayin' it baby, I just said it low
(In yo' ass)
In your motherfuckin' asshole
Okay like this, we gon' clean it up like this, huh punk bitch

Man what a bitch, gangsta shit
Fours scrape up the cement then bend
I never love me a hoe
Just to remind y'all bitches in case you didn't know

I breaks fool all niggaz, way cool all niggaz
Fuck all y'all niggaz, sawed off y'all niggaz
And I'm quick to pull out
Gangsta shit, tell a bitch to stick a dick in her mouth

As I skip to my loo, C-walkin', G talkin'
I'm a gangsta, cold hearted, sick, dumb and retarded
Came up this far without a bullet proof vest
(Yeah)
Ran with the best, sport khaki's again always stay fresh
Won't settle for less looped out, satined out

Man these niggaz on deck
Now it's the pimp of the crew, Soopafly comin' through
I got a dick and a couple balls just to name a few
The D.P. locked out, niggaz get choked out
Smoked out niggaz that'll fuck you up no doubt

Gangsta gangsta, tell me how you do it
It seems so simple like there was nothin' to it
Rippin', sippin', dippin' on the fluid
West Coast nigga, yeah we be the truest

Represent that Long Beach, represent that L.B.C.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that S.T.C
Represent that Long Beach, represent that D.P.G.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that P.A.C.

I have so much beef I shoulda fucked up my colon
But I sent 'em off deprived, with both they fuckin' eyes swollen
Everything stolen and it's still rich rollin'
Niggaz can't see me 'cause I kill shit blowin'

I let loose like ain't no tomorrow with bomb beats
AK-47 street, quick to get ya, my lyrics like missiles to hit Hitler
Motherfucker stay up out my Kool-Aid pitcher
You don't wanna see my style like click-click pow

Make you bow to my wicked style, make you my child
The enemy wanna diss, nigga but how could he?
We hookers and hoodies, with a bag full of goodies, what!?
Now take that for what it's worth

I'll terrorize your territory and take over your turf
All these niggaz is rob, but they was soft as a Nerf
Nasty as after birth, they say "ooh" after the verse

I'm commercial, universal with no rehearsal
And when I'm in the hood I'm just so controversial
Niggaz know me homie the O.G.
West Coast Don, I'll smash on anyone

On my daughter and my two sons, the set and my two guns
I move the dubs and let D move the 2-1's
Not to mention all my No Limit niggaz now
We do it G style like Big C-Style

Represent that Long Beach, represent that L.B.C.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that S.T.C
Represent that L.B., represent that D.P.G.
Represent that L.B., represent that P.A.C.

What, what, what? My freestyle worth about a ticket now
So to kick a style, you gotta kick me down
Every nigga from the Pound gettin' paid now
Hey now, big bow wow honey child

I ran a hundred miles through about a hundred styles
And now I'm through with it, with nothin' else to do with it
Roll it, blaze it, pass it, now you hit it
We's a D.P.G. committee

Snoop fuck that bitch, dat Nigga Daz fuck that bitch
That trick, that goofy ass bitch
Soopafly, super high, ruff cap slip, fuckin' gangsta shit
20 Insane, 60 Crip, 19th Street Crip
Where the gangstas hang it's a gang thang, we all gang bang

Hold up
(Wait a minute)
All my niggaz get
(Gangsta with it)
Tick-tock
(Crip Walk)

And prepare to get ill when the gangstas talk
Saggin' and flaggin' with the '7-trey draggin'
Smokin' like a dragon with the .4-4 cannon
Be the last man standin' whoopin' niggaz at random

Gray and Blue bandanna's, hoo-ridin' is standard
So what y'all wanna say?
(Huh, huh?)
What y'all wanna do?
(Huh, huh?)

You niggaz trippin', while I'm steady dippin'
Throw your clip in, since y'all all flippin'
Rollin' capers, while I'm gettin' papers
Tried to shake us, you know they caught the vapors

Everyone around is soon to see
Ain't nobody comin' close to me
Keep hangin' ?round and you'll believe

Represent that Long Beach, represent that L.B.C.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that S.T.C.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that D.P.G.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that P.A.C.

Represent that Long Beach, represent that S.T.G.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that D.P.G.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that P.A.C.
Represent that Long Beach, represent that Long Beach
Represent that

Let's kick it off like this bitch, bitch please you ain't knowin'
The broadcast is directed by motherfuckin'
Snoop Doggy Dogg in this biznotch
If you're not knowin', ya know
We gon' kick it in your colon hole like this though

1-8-7.4 in your asshole like this
If you're not knowin' now your blowin' Shabadoo huh?
We gon' kick it like this to the Eastside L.B.C.
L.B.C. huh? S.D.C.? Fuck I heard it was uh, D.P.G.

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Loose Cannons - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Loose Cannons
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Delmar Arnaud, Priest Joseph Brooks, Ricardo Brown, Alvin Joiner

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yo man, I don?t think they heard you
Won?t ya tell 'em what your name is? Dr. Dre
Daz, Kurupt
Yo man, I don?t think they heard you
Won?t ya tell 'em what your name is? Dr. Dre
Daz, Kurupt

Yo man, I don?t think they heard you
Won?t ya tell 'em what your name is? Dr. Dre
Daz, Kurupt
Yo man, I don?t think they heard you
Won?t ya tell 'em what your name is? Dr. Dre
Daz, Kurupt

Aight everybody get on the ground right now
Yeah, this is not your money
This is insured by the federal government
So this is not your money, don?t move

Don?t be a hero, and you won?t get blown
The fuck up right now
Yeah, aight y?all we got three minutes
Startin' now let?s keep it rollin'

Hit the bank from the back
Double the trouble, forcin' my entry
The first nigga that I saw, shot him in the jaw
Xzibit started stompin' him and so did we
(Get down bitch)

Aww shit, about time we started dumpin' on security
High society, takin' what?s mine
Snatchin' each purse after purse for every nickel and dime
Premeditated created by the scorn and the hate

But I made ma, the big time, lights and the shine
It?s a full scale war, everybody bear arms
Wear body armor, national arms

Dip away to get away, sirens alarms screamin'
Yellin' out, hell demons of war
Hell hounds that surround the wells Fargo browns
No tomorrow, hollow, harness rounds

Take a sip of your Perrier
To pay, I?ma dump like a dump truck, scramble to make my escape
Dat nigga Daz, shootin' so nothin' else come in
I?m shootin' in the opposite direction, we closed in
Shells spread nigga because we can do the work

First things first like snoop, I?ma shoot the clerk
And I did, now it?s time to split get nigga get
(Let?s go)
Dumpin' and shoot the hostages
Soopafly outside in the ride
'Bout to start shootin' everything that he see outside

Loose cannons, face covered with bandannas
Chrome pieces, mother fuck the police
It?s everybody killers on mine
If I ever get caught for crime, won?t be doin' federal time

Loose cannons, face covered with bandannas
Chrome pieces, mother fuck the police
It?s everybody killers on mine
If I ever get caught for crime, won?t be doin' federal time

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Live On The Mic - Lyrics - Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha - Kurupt

Title: Live On The Mic
Album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Priest Joseph Brooks, Ricardo Brown, Lawrence Parker

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah, this is what you would call somethin' like
One of the things that, you know, when you meet your goal
You get to the top of the game and the dream come true
Kurupt and KRS-One freestyle

Yes, yes y'all, yeah, yeah y'all
(Uh)
KRS y'all, uh, huh, uh, huh
(Uh)
Yeah Kurupt, y'all
Time to check it out, uh, huh

Prophecy, y'all yes yes, y'all
(Yea)
KRS, y'all, uh, huh, like this y'all
(Yea)
You know what's up comin' through like that
(Haha)

I laugh at that, your whole premise is off
I'm blastin' that, somehow my foot is exactly where yo ass is at
Abusin' it, you know for 86 produce 77
I'm doin' to you on the other hand still kind of new to it

I spit lead into better men, you a veteran, ain't no tellin'
What I send to get them yet another one
My voice-box send shocks of adrenaline so you sweat again
(Unverified)

Then again I noticed that everybody
Think they can fuck with us but luckily I noticed
Everybody want to be close to us, tryin' to bust when they bust
I seen them they ain't treacherous and they ain't fuckin' with us

My style's out this universe, words that serve all these emcees
They hear pre-verbs I break them down to nouns and verbs
They know exactly what I do, I run through crew for crew
KRS, it's on you, baby

True underground, Boogey Down got them runnin' around
Comin' to town breakin' them all the way down
And makin' them frown, true underground

Not a class clown, copy, guilty ass, papi
I roll with the mash out posse
The beat down posse, terror squad
You'll find you was never hard

When the clip loads and I yell Flip-Mode
My faster, fresh blows, give my foes death blows
The best nose, goes live at breath shows

See I heard it before, word it before
Worded it before, before
Every emcee tried to serve it before

Be Kurupt the raw dog hog servin' all y'all
Fuck around with us the top dog
Murder all y'all, my minds incredible

I'm out this mind state, lookin' at me, oh my goodness
What rhymes he creates
Is he the best? Wonderin', nah, ain't no best
It's only me and KRS we don't need no vest, mothafucka

Uh, like that, yeah, uh, huh, like that, uh
(We gangstafied Kurupt and KRS-One on the mic, Yeah)

Comin' through in the studio live
KRS-One, yeah I'm still on Jive
But I represent emcees now out in

Yeah, no doubt, I be kurupt the raw dog and I'm droppin'
Every emcee from here to Compton
Raw dog, assassin when you see me comin' through, blastin
Don't matter no harrassin, they won't lastin'

The last round, the last nigga knocked down
Provocative sound, droppin' off round for round
And pound for pound, I be from the Dogpound
It's me a Kris, nigga you can eat my dick

I break them down so quick, you can't fuck with this
The lyricist poltergiest is way nice
Break and take them in freezers just like ice
Fuck around with me, O.G, yo, we so precise

You know the teacher's agenda
We will be here forever, you plottin' to surrender
Action start, you start tremor
Never lose my temper, when my temple member
You know the center of the dope beat, remember

Yea, yea, haha
Raw dog assassin style
KRS and kurupt
Yea, yea, y'all, uh, huh
Like this, like this

Yeah, we make them bounce, I make them bounce
We make them bounce, yo, I make them bounce
Yo, I blaze a ounce, yeah, I blaze a ounce
I'm gonna bounce to the ounce

When the homies come through
Dogpound we surround like we bustin' at you
I leave ya flat, homie
You wonderin, you lookin' back, homie
I leave you all alone, in the danger zone

Lookin' at Kurupt and didn't notice it was on
My homeboy, slittin', spreadin', begin the spreadin'
Niggas, who don't bust rhymes, niggas start beheadin'
Me and Kris, we do it just like this
Lyricist, niggas can't fuck with this

That's right y'all, you heard what the man said
KRS-One styles could never be dead
Thats why we still in-in the studio
Chillin' it's about three o'clock
And we representin' real hip-hop

Now you know what time it is
We got the camera in our face
KRS-One, all up in the fuckin' place
You know what time it is
We got to come back again

I got my friend, I can't remember his name again
But I'm gonna keep flowin', gonna keep showin'
Remember the skills that out the box

We be blowin', like that, yo Foxy you on the track
Come and get some'a that pass it right back
Now my man, Kurupt, on the mic like this
Now come back and represent beside the Kris

Clap your hands, get it all together then
See me come through, me and Kris
Tougher than leather and every emcee who come through
Be better than you, Claimin' they better than you
But we start severin' heads

Everybody lookin' at me I flows from the head
Leave them all dead, nigga, you heard what I said
Punk ass niggas, don't realize the game

Despisin' the game homeboy televisin' the game
Seen the game, so im televisin the game
Surprisin' the game, oh no, I'm risin' the game

They shook down they took down, shook like clowns
See me rockin' I be rockin' all around
Don't you know it, oh yeah, the poltergiest poet
Throw it, I show it, homeboy just don't blow it

Sit on the couch, with a joint in my mouth
Gettin' as high as can be, even though, they despisin' me
Realizin' I be makin' more money than Spike Lee

And that's my homie, O.G to me
Yo, Kris, we gonna do it like this
(Yeah?)
Drop them down, quick, and they can eat a dick

Boogey Down, Boogey Down
Boogey Down, Boogey Down
Boogey Down production
Boogey Down, Boogey Down
Boogey Down, Boogey Down

Ha-ha ha-ha
(Byatch)
Yo we out, dog
(Bitch gangsta life, me and KRS-One on the mic)

Play the MP3 online for free!

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