Puffin' on Blunts and Drankin' Tanqueray [*]

Dr. Dre:Yeah, yeah, yeah

Yo yo, let's do this shit

"I thought I thaw a puddy tat"

You's a punk-ass n***a

Yo, yeah

Yo, Death Row's in the motherf**king house

Wrecking shit you know what I'm saying

This is Dr. Dre in the motherf**king house

Yo, I got my homeboys in the house

Tha Dogg Pound's definitely in here, yeah

I got my n***a Kurupt ready to wreck some shit

Yo, you know what else I got in the house?

Yo, so diggi-Daz step up on that ass

Yeah, guess what's in here?

My homegirl Rage, I said my homegirl Rage

Yeah, the lyrical motherf**king murderer's in here

Yo my n***a Glove behind the boards

Yo dropping that funky-ass bassline, yeah

You know, you know there's a lot of punk-ass n***as out there

A lot of punk-ass b***hes out there

Yo you wanna write names?

Yo that n***a Eazy-E, he's a punk-ass b***h, really though

Yo that n***a Tim M-U-T, he's a punk-ass biatch, biatch

You know what I'm saying

Oh, oh, oh Luke, I didn't forget about you, biatch

Really though

Yo, Death Row's in the motherf**king house

Running the 9-3, you know, yeah

But right about now

There's a little freestyle session going on, in the studio

We just kicking back getting f**ked up and all

You know, puffing on a few blunts

Drinking on a little bit of that Tanqueray, Tanqueray

Yeah Tanqueray's definitely in the house

You know what I'm saying

Cause I'm feeling it baby

I'm feeling it, really though

So-a, right about now, aiyyo Rage

Yo Rage, yo run that shit G

Lady of Rage:Always and forever, forever and always

The rhythm will flow from now and through all days

As long as the sun shines

As long as Eisenhower's on the dime

Yo, I'll be kicking the rhyme

One time for your mind, your soul, your body

The OG's on the side of me

Smooth as E & J, hard as Bacardi

Smacking those yaddy-yacks ducks that keep quacking

Hens that are cackling, end up crackling

Under the heat, the pressure from the one that's deffer

Egyptian ruler, call me Cleo or Nefertiti, yes indeedy

Got the eyes that are beady, body from Tahiti

Voice of the wind lyrics, blow

Chills up your spine I send, so

All thoughts in your mind drop 'em yo

You came in the front but you'll be kicked through the back door

If you try to step, try to come incorrect

Try to play the left, try to start a mess

Try to cause a fuss, try to raise a ruckus

Huh, you'll end up ashes to ashes, dust to dust

A busta, you musta been buggin on drugs

And alcohol back off, all a y'all, up against the wall

Spread em, Doggs - go get em

Hand-cuff em and stuff em, cold shut em, don't let em

Utter a word, not to mother or Herb

If you try you die, visions blurred, speech slurred

Served with a cherry on top

Rage in effect I just begun to rock

Yeah rock on witcha bad self (Rage)

Rock on witcha bad self (Rage)

Rock on witcha bad self (Rage)

Rock on witcha bad self

Dat N***a Daz:Yo, I'm Dat N***a Daz who packs a tre-8 slug

A true n***a from the hood and the Pound gives love

You see n***as wanna be down but never came around

So back up off my nuts and stop sweating the Pound

You see, n***as get broke off like 1, 2, 3

Cause I'm the D-A to the, D-A- to the Z

Now G'z pay attention to this young ass mack daddy

In a Caddy, had he

Not known about the city where the n***as hang around

So I roll em up, and hit em up with the motherf**king Dogg Pound

Kurupt:I'm rough and rugged, and up to do dirt

I'm from the Dogg Pound n***a so I'm putting in work

I'm no joke, who the f**k you trying to provoke

(1-8-7) It's cold how his ass got smoked

I don't drink no f**king V-S-O-P

I drink a motherf**king O.G. Olde E

I'm from the clique that be kicking the gangsta shit b***h

Real n***as real G'z with real big dicks

I hit em up with the Pound, so what you wanna throw up

Claiming you're cocaine or cavi when you blow up

Know what, the Pound's in the motherf**king house

Back again we try to get high as we can

Dr. Dre, be kicking fat rhymes and produce, and kick shit

I gets more wicked than Beetlejuice

Motherf**kers get battered, so scatter before I keep you

Hostage, a n***a hostile like the grim reaper

So, I'm coming from my hood, what hood

You really like to know, wouldn't you, I thought you knew

Motherf**ker don't you know I'm stranded on the Row

I take a look into the crowd kick a style a flow

I'm mashing, motherf**kers get murdered for asking

Relax kid, you're rollin' with a f**king assassin

I last did dirt the other day

Portray, the role of a G, from the D-O double G

P-O-U-N-D, Pound so bow bow motherf**kin' marks

The execution starts, when the Chronic is sparked

I'm like Barkley, rough and rugged, but raw like Rawhead

Rex, I flex murderous rhymes to leave you all dead

What's said is what's said, it's already spoke

The dead is the dead I ain't no f**kin' Joke

I murder motherf**kers as a hobby

One of my idols Ain't No Joke, so why in the f**k should I be

Fly me, to the Bahamas, ruff rhymer, drama's

What you're kicking, wicked is how I'm-a

Approach you, the locster, who's quick to up and smoke you

You're looking like a smoker, grinning like the joker

I yoke you from da back like a b***h talking shit

Cause a b***h ain't shit but a ho and trick, on my dick

Flip, lets take a trip to the Dogg Pound

Fools tried to punk me when I was young, but I'm a hog now

And I gets respect and I step with a Tec 9

Ready to put somethin' up in that ass so you respect mine

Fool, Death Row ain't Lynchin and the Pound ain't Mobbin

We all don't give a f**k, run in your crib and start robbing

Throbbing, I'll break a n***a down in the 90's

Maxing at the Pound wit my doggs is where you'll find me, beeotch

Dr. Dre:Heell yeaah

You n***as can't fade this shit, you know what I'm saying

Death Row's in the motherf**kin' house

The Dogg Pound's definitely in here, you knowhatI'msayin

And ay yo yo yo yo yo, you n***as can't **** with this

So don't even try it

Stay in the studio all you want, stay in the studio all you want

Cause you can't f**k with this, see ya