Snoop

A day in the life, of a Rollin 20 Crip. Im just a stuburn type of fella with a head like a brick. And 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 smooth as a prism. Now check it as 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 aint this y'all, I got 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-Reel, E-Rock, Boo-Lay Face. And the homie Har'ron rest in peace. Big Jay from Cappinella Park, he used to blaze with his nephew after dark. On and on, rocking big neck bone Mauseberg I had to put you on my song. It's so real, I had show some love. Now back to the scrub, it aint about Crip or Blood, It's about you being jealous bout what I does. Cos I does it the most, the King of The Coast, in a Pink Plaint Pos. I back ya down like Shack Daddy, and bust on ya out the new Caddy, and skirt up Wiltshire Boulevard. I'm not Xzibit, you can't pull my hoe card. I fucked all your groupies, when you was doing time and kept Snoopy with the fags & snitches, no killers just bitches. And you was paying niggas off of all my riches. You so hard caught, why aint you go to level 4? Oh I know bitch. But I walk the main line everytime I go down. You can check my G Files, I do it LBC style. I got the word on ya Simon, you need to just start rhyming. Cos 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 aint been paid, for One-Eight-Seven On A Cop. I started yo shit, and I'll end yo shit If you keep talking shit on Crip.