pimp slappd
W-Balls, it's your main man DJ E-Z Dick
About to unleash another one of those platnum plus hits
And the word is on the streets, and the word is the streets
We gon go to a live remote, licking wit my main man Mr Doggy Dogg
A day in the life, of a Rollin' 20 Crip
I'm just a stubborn type of fella with a head like a brick
Now just because I sip Moet, they say that I'm hopeless
But I don't give a fuck, so blame it on the loc'ness
Now this is how we do it when we checking the grip
Snoop Dogg is in this bitch, so don't even trip
I bust a funky composition that's as smooth as a prism
So check it while I kick off in this funky-ass rhythm
It's six dub, the phone is ringing off the deck
And it's some homies talking about I disrespected they set
Aww nah, Dogg ain't diss y'all
I got a couple relatives up off of Crenshaw
This is about me and Simon, not me and y'all
I got love for a bunch of real B-Dogs
Like K-Dub, Top Cat, B-Real, E-Rock, Boo-Lay Face
And the homie Heron rest in peace
Big Jay from Campanella Park
He used to blaze with his nephew after dark
On and on, rocking big Neckbone
Mausberg I had to put you on my song
It's so real, I had to show some love
Now back to this scrub, it ain't about Crip or Blood
It's about you bein' jealous of what I does
Cause I does it the most, the king of the coast
In the paint playin' post - I back you down
Like Shaq-Daddy, and bust on ya out the new Caddy
And skirt up Wilshire Boulevard
I'm not Xzibit, you can't "Pull My Ho Card"
.. I fucked all your groupies
When you was doing time in Camp Snoopy
With the fags and snitches, no killers just bitches
And you was payin' niggas off with all my riches
You so hardco', why you ain't go to level fo'?
Oh I know (bitch!)
But I walk the mainline every time I go down
You can check my G Files I do it L.B.C. style
.. I got the word on you Simon
You need to just start rhymin'
Cause you the biggest star on your label
And them other niggas just crumbs off my table
You're not able, to compete with the heat that I drop
And I still ain't been paid, for "1-8-7 on a cop"
I started yo' shit and I will end yo' shit
If you keep talkin shit on Crip!
It all boils down to the fact
That you're jealous of my paper stack (jealous ass nigga)
It all boils down to the fact
That you're jealous of my paper stack (gon' get pimp slapped)
Money, I get it, paper I got it
I got the dope
Heaters, I keep em, bitches I got em
Run up, ya get done up, I stay one up
If I shoot you, I'll be brainless, and you'll be famous
And I'll be spending money out the anus
Your only gain is to try to get me to fall down to your level
Man you worse than them devils
Alotta niggas should've said it, fuck em
But I'ma say it for em, stop it, pop it, rewind and play it for em
This nigga's a bitch like his wife
Suge Knight's a bitch, and that's on my life
And I'ma let the whole world see
Cause you fucked up the industry, and that's on me
We can go head up, nigga, set it up
Or we can do the other thing, I love to wet it up
Your rappers and artists, tell em, shut it up
Cause I'll fuck every last one of 'em up, especially Kurupt (shshshsh)
See that's my lil homeboy, so he knows what's up (what's up)
He better keep it Crippin', and slip his clip in
Cause these niggas trippin', this is official business
Do the same way, leave no witnesses
This is that unexpected misdirected, sprayed, covered and protected
Strip you butt naked, chicky-check-check-it
It's all to the good again
You can catch Snoopy Do Double in the hood again (Eastside)
Spinning that real times, spitting that real shit
To make the whole world feel it (feel it)
So put the bacon in the skillet (hahaha), and try to peel it
Cause Doggystyle Records is the realest, nigga
Money, I get it, paper I got it
Heaters, I keep em, bitches I got em
Money, I get it, paper I got it
Jealous ass nigga