Nine in the mornin’, feds at my door (My door)
Blue Cortez squeakin’ ‘cross the hardwood floor (Right)
Dippin’ through the alley I made my escape
Mad with no music but happy ’cause free
Bailin’ fast as I can bail down 19th Street
I got my sacks in my pocket and at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistol’s close in hand
I’m a Dogg Pound Gangsta from the LBC
Remotely controlled by the bomb E.T
But just livin’ in Beach city is a serious task
Didn’t know what the feds wanted, didn’t have time to ask
We’re comin’ with that G sh#t, that C sh#t that makin’ n#gg#s sick
How does it feel to see a G from your clique?
Wake up, jumped out of bed with my grin on (Why?)
Last night’s dice game, got my win on
About a G and a half is what I came with
But twenty-five G’s is what I left with
Tee-lee was the word I heard
I went deep in my pockets and threw my stars on the curb
Gimme the dice so I can break you n#gg#s
I threw a six (C-I-X) so my point was the biggest
Seven, four, four, tre back to back
I sent two fools back to they ‘Leezzac
See now I’m off to the graveyard shift
And I gotsta pay my dues to make my grip
But I chill ’cause my ho might call
Ain’t no thang, ’cause I sleeps all day and slang when night fall
And I takes a quick walk up the block
With my Glock cocked, ready to make a stop where I set up shop
On Fifty-nina, 8th Ave where all the homies be hangin’
That’s where a n#gg#’ll be slangin’
I’m makin’ a cool grip of sh#t, this ain’t me
So I put my chips together and cops a quarter ki
And now the shop’s on deck
And everything that’s mines I protect with a Tec, I don’t half step
Now I got ends
And I’m rollin’ a Lexus, f#ck a Benz, and so many new friends
But I could only trust a few
And unawarely I trusted you
But if I only knew
G and Snoop, homies from the motherf#ckin’ get-go
Devoted and quotin’, back in ’84
I was thirteen, G was a year older
But I still wasn’t afraid to throw ’em from the shoulders
Gettin’ put on the hood was the anticipation
And yeah, King Park was the destination
Every n#gg# that I knew was at the park that night
Even the smokers that be lovin’ to get sparked at night
Back on the streets, straight blue and gray
‘Cause I represent like every day
n#gg#, you can’t tell me I don’t be on the spot
When I can tell you all the homies that done got shot
From at least about five years ago
When I was in junior high goin’ to Marshall
The homie use to come up to the school and rock
And leave and have the b#tches flockin’ his jock
Damn, them was the days of the past
But since the Pizzound formed, we been whippin’ people’s #ss
And everybody’ll blast
And if you don’t believe me, n#gg#, you can ask the homie Daz
And that’s your #ss
f#cked around and let Young Swoop take your cash (Haha)
He didn’t even run, he walked away (Busta)
Cuz, I lived to see that day
I wished I was there, I woulda clowned
But that’s why we “x”-ed your b#tch #ss from the Pound
‘Cause he wouldn’t even squab back
Man, we can’t f#ck with no n#gg#s like that
He’ll get us all cracked
If the police was behind us, he wouldn’t even jump out with the strap
Now that’s what I call a beeyatch! (Beeiyitch!)
I second the motion, you was dropped from the clique (Yeah, yeah)
Some of these n#gg# are b#tches, too
And some of these n#gg#s look just like you
So if you’ve ever been told on
Go out and get your roll on
You punk #ss n#gg#, you gettin’ stole on
It’s 5:30 in the mornin’, now I’m yizzawnin’
Now as I proceed to get G to a tee
And before I bail to school, you know I blaze up a sack
Another day to clock a dollar for the gangsta mack
b#tch, act like you know, show me some sex and affection
And lick me down slow
Flossin’, tossin’ a b#tch (b#tch)
Yeah Dogg, one more thing I forgot to mention
Shoot five n#gg#s, shoot ten
Shoot the pink slip to your Benz
Seven, g#dd#mn it, win again
A six and four for the hundred, straight four for a G
Young Daz, little n#gg#, you can’t f#ck with me
Now I knew that them n#gg#s couldn’t get at you
So what made them n#gg#s try to spit at you?
Disrespect the game then snitch on you
Y’all punk #ss n#gg#s, man, y’all some b#tches, too
Who got some gangsta gangsta shit? (Haha)
Swoop G, I heard somebody’s speakin’ up on me
‘Cause when I drop mines there was no more nickels and dimes
Just boulders, ounces, half ounces and quarter pieces
See, it’s the season and I don’t smoke bunk
It’s either indo or skunk, I might as well get drunk
Than smoke some stress, that shit’ll put a hole in your chest
I only want another twenty dollar, sure got me f#cked up
My hood is gettin’ hot and n#gg#s is tryna plot and
Come up off a young n#gg# callin’ his shots
Swoop G ain’t the one, I do what’s to be done (Ah)
Always have my gun and my G from 2-1 (Ah, ah)
In Cerritos, but you don’t hear me though
‘Cause you don’t really know about the you-know
On Cerritos, silly ho
Swoop G, motherf#ckin’ LBC
None of these n#gg# wanna f#ck with me (Ah)
Swoop G (Ah, ah, ah)
G, G
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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