(feat. Brotha Lynch Hung)



[Mr. Doctor]

Biatch, I see you standin in the window, fiendin

One o'clock at night a nigga high and baby fiendin

You made it a muthafuckin daily routine

To blow me up, but I ain't callin less I wanna get my dick (ah)

Oh yeah I got the present, ? for the kicks y'all

Get a carter coat to go with that and I might stay fo awhile

Niggero gotcha fiendin for the flavor of dick

Gotcha cravin it, even gotcha tastin

The shit was simple when I fucked you on the first date

Damn you must of known I'd go up in ya cus you had on that lace

That night, hooker, I ain't forgot the thick brown ass

But I'll just hit it when I want, yeah I like the way ya fuck

(Then why you never call?)

Cus I be stuck in traffic, or handlin business,

Why you give me static bout it

Ya know you aint the only one so what ya trippin ho

Youre fiendin for the deuce-nine dick

And fuckin my homie from the four ya know



[Chorus]

Ya treatin me so bad

And I wanna know why

Why did ya do me this way, baby

I wanna know why

Why, why did ya treat me so bad

Whoooooa, I wanna know why

Why did ya treat me, treat me

Treat me, baaaaaad

Why did ya treat me so bad



[Brotha Lynch]

Well I'm so high off this chronic shit

I bumped my head on a helicopter

And I ain't knowin what to tell my doctor

A couple of hits'll have yout fiendin 24 street dick

The night-stalker from the fo'

Lose a hoe, bruise a ho

Do ya hoe cus if ya do I'll put you up

We'll make some g's up out of a momo ho

All the free dope you wanna smoke

And if I come up short, I'll let you meet my mini mac 1-0

Cus in the gardens where the chronic grows

We stay high, way high, bitch what you think

I keep my skrilla up in the bank so ain't no gank

So fuck me or feed me or you don't need me

Find your BG, kickin it with my YG's

And we just gettin high of this chronic shit

Bumpin heads on the helicopter

And we not knowin what to tell our doctor

A couple of hits'll have ya fiendin 24 street dick

And break em off proper



[Mr. Doctor]

Now tell me how many joints can ya smoke to this nigga

And how many biatches will suck my dick

Take a hit, take a hit, then you pass the shit

Get to coughin eyes water, why you fuckin with the chronic

Cus we dip front to back, and my locos ride

Bumpin season of the sicc, switchin side to side

Now let me slide to some gangsta shit

Bout a biatch that we was switchin fo the fuck of it

And never had to claim that trick

Blaze some weed, gettin paid from the sucka

And when a nigga leave, pass a homie on his way to fuck her yeeah

Had the bitch down for the calls in fact

Had the muthafucka straightup macked



[Brotha Lynch]

And thats right bitch, you know me

Runnin that shit like so much pimp

Some nigga got mad and went to the pad for the mac

But didn't know, I packed a forty-fo

Ho, remember when you touched me on my dick and said

Oh! Yo shit's a rock, but you didn't know

You touched the barrel of a forty-fo

Fo in the mornin, ho you was at my door

And I'm knowin these raggety hos, so bitch

You know I know you was at my locc's house

Fuck the bullshit, ho

Cus we know, we got ya fiendin

24 and 29 street dick



[Chorus]