(feat. Kurupt)



[Kurupt (Drunken Master) {Both}]

"Drunken Master. Uh-huh-huh-huh-huh."

("Yeah, nigga. Uh. Uh.")

"You know what? Yeah, this Kurupt, young Gotti. Dogg Pound-like gangsta

Assassin. Numba one."

("Drunkenstyle, baby. C'mon.")

"Huh? It's like this, homie."



We don't stop. We pop glocks

We got nots. We clock knocks

I bust shots. I'm raw dog

Kurupt's a hog. O-G for the dogs!



"Uh! Uh. It's like that, ch'all!"

("It's goin' down. Let's get some freestyle shit in here.")

"Y-Y-Yeah! It's like that, nigga."



All my gangbangin' homeboys throw it up. I'ma blow it up

Make the spot flame. You don't know my name?

I'ma tell ya somethin', homie. You know the game?

I don't got no strain, no type of stress

I protects myself wit' the Smif-to the-Wes

Westside, nigga. Rida for life!

Dogg Pound Gangsta, you know my wife

And d-dough, I come through and blaze the weed though

Drop niggas down all the time. Dogg Pound all the time

When you see me bust a rhyme, believe it's nice

Ignite mics, homie. I'm cold as ice

and I'm percise like shots at point blank

These niggas wanna come through? They get ganked!

My homeboy Drunken Master said,

{'Ayyo, Kurupt, you gotta bust 'em}

{Leave that bastard dead, nigga.'}

So indeed I had to cock my heat

Bust two shots, lay him flat in his seat

Make his homegirl holla, then I bust her in bed

Everybody know I bust rhymes, I come from the head

I'ma leave 'em all dead and you heard what I said

Make 'em bleed 'til they bled, when you see me in red,

nigga, best believe I'm bleedin'

'cause the only color I blue is blue and you know it's true,

it's true. And, nigga, what I do is I ride

Dogg Pound Gangsta, homicidal vibes, nigga

My heart pounds, everybody lay it down

You look around. Bustin' everybody on the ground

and if you got money, I'm in your pockets. Strip 'em off

I get it right. Bitches get it off

the sideline to ride. Homicidal indeed

Kurupt, I run through and I blaze the weed

Super Fire in the back and the D-A-Z,

and my homeboy, the S-N-double O-P

Now we don't stop. We pop glocks

("It's all your fault.")

We clock knocks. Rock non-stop

("No hoe, no salt.")

You just a bitch and bitches eat dick,

also you know that bitches ain't shit

See, I rock rhymes the drop of a dime

I'm one-of-a-kind. Line-for-line

A Dogg Pound Gangsta, you know me

K-U-R-U-P-T, D-P-G-C



[Drunken Master]

Check it out. Drunken Master in the house chasin' cash wit' Kurupt and Daz

It ain't my fault if I blast on yo' busta ass

Drunkenstyle, nigga, time to put it down

Professional Chedda Chasers ridin' wit' Tha Dogg Pound

Bustin' off shots, headed for the weed spot

On your block bumpin' underground Pac, nigga

Pissy drunk, don't make me pop the trunk

Ayyo, Kurupt! Put the weed in the blunt

so we can bring the ruckus to these gangsta hatin' bitches

Drunken Master on the road to the riches

Snitches catch slugs when they ride down my block

Ayyo, Kurupt, tell these niggas what you got



[Kurupt (Kurupt's voice sampled)]

I got sixteen mothafuckin' M-16's

Fifteen nine millimeters with beams

Fifteen mothafuckin' MACK-11's

and mini-macks too, nigga. Bitch little nigga

Punk mothafucka

(B-Bitch little nigga. Punk-

punk mothafucka. B-Bitch little nigga

Bitch little-bitch little-bitch little nigga

Punk mothafucka. B-Bitch little nigga

Bitch little-bitch little-bitch little nigga)