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 a
