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. WC talking Warren G. Take notes young locs, I advise y'all to slow down. Glocks, K's, and eagles trying to put a murder down. Watching fools servin' found. Put your eyes on the prize, hitting
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-locs, dreamin 'bout me M. I. A. Boyfriend wonderin where I'm at, cause I'm in the spot-spot. Why he always tryin to be puttin me down on lock lock?. Well it's Fergie motherfucker comin straight from Cali
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, mandle that I'm stacked. Niggaz, tryin' to corner the market but I'm back. Bang to the boogie and boogie to the bang. It's G-Funk for life sewing up everything Little Locs, pay attention, do I or should
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can try, if they choose to. With these locs love my dogs like the Blues Clues So excuse you, I'm the reason for the fame. And all of a sudden, you ain't believing in the name. What? Butch Cassidy
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gon catch no fish, trying to watch my line. Just lay back put your locs on, and watch me shine. I drove this car this far, don't try to stop me now. And it don't matter if a nigga, go platinum or
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dick sucked by the clucks. And will he do dirt? Fool, oh please. Little locs are harder then the OGz You fall to the ground and beg please. Just got served by little niggaz on the 10-speed. 12 years
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in ya body the size of a Bellagio chips. Yeah Roccett-Locs burner, boy as hot as it gets (Wuh). . Chorus. . Verse 3 2'11. Gimme everythang nigga this the 2-11. Run upon 'em, pull the pistol out
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"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
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'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 homey's
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chrome, better take yo ass home. And get some first of the month, cash the checks, c'mon. Yeah you better check in if you niggas want room. Look, one call on my phone. My Tiny Locs pull up with that thing
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. and no sucker ass nigga's gonna stop the hit. Wardrobes and locs, and a Ruthless shirt. That means I'm ready to work, and rush a fool to the dirt, so Chorus "Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt" *pow
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been a gangsta since back in the day. Junior High School, I think it was in '78. Back in the days when locs was called insanes. And I was coolin with my big cousin Nobrain. Back then, you know a
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. Smokin' that weed, hangin' out with my locs and folks. Don't give a * about nothin' at all. That's why I'm known to the world as big motherfuckin' Snoop Dogg. Nigga Snoop Dogg everybody!. Now we
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where the booze and coke at. Gangsta's, gorillas, damoo's and locs at. Where the bricks, where the dick, where the X, where the morphene be. Take the turnpike to 4 TP But now it's back to this pussy
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of Fort Knox. Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy banging. Like Versace locs pops (what the deal). Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks. I'm sexing raw dog without protection, disease
