Testi musica canzoni

Yeah, hell yeah. Know what I·m sayin·? Yeah...

Mister Buster, where the fuck ya at?

Can·t scrap a leg, so I know ya got your gat.

Your dick on hard, from fuckin your road dogs.

The hood you threw up with, niggaz you grew up with

Don·t even respect your ass.

That·s why it·s time for the doctor to check your ass, nigga.

Used to be my homie, used to be my ace.

Now I wanna slap the taste out your mouth,

Make you bow down to the row.

Fuckin· me, now I·m fuckin· you, little ho.

Oh, don·t think I forgot, let you slide.

Let me ride, just another homicide.

Yeah it·s me so I·mma talk on.

Stompin· on the ·Eazy·est streets that you can walk on.

So strap on your Compton hat, your locs.

And watch your back cause you might get smoked, loc.

And pass the bud, and stay low-key,

B.G., ·cause you lost all your homie·s love

Now call it what you want to.

You fucked wit me, now it·s a must that I fuck wit you!


Yeah, that·s what the fuck I·m talkin about.

We have your motherfuckin record company surrounded.

Put down the candy and let the little boy go...

You know what I·m sayin·? Punk motherfucker...

**We want Eazy, we want Eazy**


Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay.

Doggy Dogg·s in the motherfuckin· house...

Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay.

Death Row·s in the motherfuckin· house...

Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay.

The sounds of a dog brings me to another day.

Play, with my bone won·t you tell me

It seems like you·re good for makin· jokes about your jimmy.

But here·s a jimmy joke about your mama that you might not like:

I heard she was the ·Frisco dank.

But fuck your mama, I·m talkin about you and me

Toe to toe, Tim M - U - T.

Your bark was loud, but your bite wasn·t vicious.

And them rhymes you were kickin· were quite bootylicious.

You get with Doggy Dogg. Oh, is he crazy?

With ya mama and your daddy hollin· babee.

So won·t they let you know

That if you fuck with Dre, nigga, you·re fuckin· wit Death Row.

And I ain·t even slangin· them thangs.

I·m hollin· one-eight-seven with my dick in your mouth, biyitch!


Yeah,nigga! Compton and Long Beach together on this motherfucker.

So you wanna pop that shit - get yo motherfuckin· cranium cracked nigga.

Step on up. Now, we ain·t no motherfuckin· joke so remember the name:

Mighty, mighty D-R. Yeahhh, MOTHERFUCKER!


Now understand this: my nigga Dre can·t be touched.

Luke·s bendin· over, so Luke·s gettin fucked, buster.

Must have thought I was sleazy,

Or thought I was a mark cause I used to hang with Eazy.

Animosity made ya speak but ya spoke.

Hey, yo Dre! Whattup? Chip this nigga off loc.

If it ain·t another ho that I gots to fuck with.

Gap teeth in your mouth so my dick·s gots to fit.

With my nuts on ya tonsils

While ya onstage rappin· at your wack-ass concerts.

And I·mma snatch your ass from the backside

To show you how Death Row pull off that whoride.

Now you might not understand me,

·Cause I·mma rob you in Compton and blast you in Miami.

Then we gon creep to South Central

On a Street Knowledge mission. As I steps in the temple

Spot him, got him, as I pulls out my strap.

Got my chrome to the side of his White Sox hat.

You tryin· to check my homie, you best check yo self.

Cause when you dis Dre you dis yourself, MOTHERFUCKER


Yeah, nine-deuce.

Dr. Dre, droppin· chronic once again.

It don·t stop. Punishing punk motherfuckers real quick like Compton Style, nigga!

Doggy Dogg·s in the motherfuckin· house...

Long Beach is in the motherfuckin· house...

Yeah, yeah... Straight up, really doe!

Breakin· all these suckers off somethin· real proper like...

You know what I·m sayin·?


All these sucker ass niggaz can eat a fat dick:

Yeah! Eazy-E, Eazy-E, Eazy-E can eat a big fat dick!

Tïm Dog can ea