Snoop dogg - Woof!
Overige artiesten: Mystikal Fiend

No Limit black sheep played the back seat for months
Stayed away from the Tanqueray bitches and blunts
Still Mac nigga ain't nothin' changed
Got the rings and the gold chains
Now bitches want to know my whole name
I penetrate em then I disintegrate em
I let the next nigga date em 'cause I don't hate em
I spit voodoo to the most hard to get hoes
And at the end of the night, I rippin' off clothes
You fuckin' with the realest, from lyrical spillers
To killers and dealers and cap peelers, and street guerrillas
From villains to chillers, we made millions
And paid killers to protect scrilla
So what the fuck you talk about winners?
You hear that word camouflage when you hear my name
I represent the shell shocked 'cause it's in my veins
(No Limit soldier) is on my left arm, I took it in blood
Throw your hood up if you a thug
And all them niggas say

[Chorus: Mac]
You see a soldier on the streets holler
You hear them soldiers on them beats holler
Every time them soldiers speak holler

[Kane and Abel]
Load your weapons, grab your gats
We sprinkle daily verbs over tracks
Hit the chest like heart attacks
When my lyrical hammer cock back
And leave bullet holes in your Bourbons and 'Lacs
The only thing we give them hoes is a dick and a smack
Gangstafied Kane and Abel you know the camouflage assassin
Blastin' and mashin', kidnappin' and head bashin'
Razor blade slashin', the endo blunt passin'
For the cash and, woah it's bout to happen
What you want (?) ugly with that 223
Hit em up in 3-d, now it's banned from TV
Niggas playa hated, I sure hated
Spark the weed, cremated
See this game, we regulated

[Mr. Serv-On]
Nigga, you know me
The nigga that spell everything out? (nah)
The nigga that'll run through your motherfuckin' set and bang
your hoe motherfuckin' out (Fuck yeah nigga)
The nigga that's catchin these niggas and beatin em down
'cause they wearin' Tanks, they don't know what the fuck it mean
Nigga, that's the fuck, that's about punchin' your fuckin' mouth
The nigga that'll tear the club up
Nigga, I don't give a fuck if you bangin' or slangin'
Nigga when I put this Tank up nigga you get rowdy as the fuck
But if you think I was gonna leave this motherfucker without
spellin' a line
K-L you done lost your motherfuckin' mind
Stop the track 'cause these niggas don't know about my click black
I down with the M to the A to the see
It's the S to the E to the are to the V
Fuckin' with the T to the A to the N to the K
And when I come through motherfucker and I raise my Tank up high
You best believe some a you coward motherfuckers goin' die


[Big Ed]
Nigga what I claim?
Nigga I claim true!
I hang with niggas that's killers with true tattoos
I got my name Big Ed from what I put between hips
I got my name Assassin from the way I empty out clips
Wear the No Limit soldier, thuggin' at heart
Hittin' niggas with throw aways when I toss em I break em apart
Niggas get your guns up if you rowdy
And when Assassin hit the stores, buy the album if you bout it
bout it

[Snoop Dogg]
Rowdy gangsta in this motherfucker, loco
So I can come through and keep it true
and do what the fuck I must
I bust, I keep it true from the 'ginnin
Snoop Dogg, the representer from Long Beach city
A true tank dog, bank y'all in y'all face
If y'all try to come close, y'all can't run this race
I place my self above the stack
With my homeboys Mac and sack you fact, we strap for strap
We got your back, don't even flip out or trip out
Or dip out, these niggas lookin' at me strange
My game to maintain, I let it go, I sell it don't tell it
y'all can't touch it motherfucker, or bail it, for real

[Mia X]
Biggest mama, drama two guns here I come
Put down for my last son, the camouflaged one
Mac the don, get your shine on 'cause it's your time
And I'ma get my rhyme on and spit like nine
Cocked nine millimeters the ghetto diva
Mia X-rated, golden platinum plated
Face it, when they hear me on the K-L track
All them niggas grab they head and jump back
Hollin' whoa 'cause it's goin' down like lips to dick
I'm so tight I make you bitches never want to see the mic
And spit, the matter lesson rhymes next to mine
I'm mama superior, you hoes is fearin' the
Lyrical warfare I exhale
Some fake bitches like you name is Mel
Battle anybody, hip hop or glock
On true I'ma close your shop, woah

Writers: Garry Marshall Shider , George Jr. Clinton , MICHAEL TYLER , PERCY MILLER , DAVID L. SPRADLEY , Calvin Cordazor Broadus , CRAIG BAZILE , RICHARD JONES

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group , Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC , Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. , BMG Rights Management , Ultra Tunes , DistroKid

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind