Dog About It Lyrics
Look here my nigga, it's for your own motherfucking good
You want to keep your bling, stay out my neck of the woods
If you a stranger caught anywhere in my hood
How you get left, the only thing people can say is "Ughh"
I been know for reignin' choppers, bluka-bluka
Been stankin' baller blockers and ducking coppers
Got a holla, from my nigga Mack 10-sion
An told me to meet him at LAX and its `bout some business
I flauge in, he tellin' me some busta tripping
Please let your lil' dog pay this cat a visit
Fuck wit the O.G. and B.G. get busy
Make sure his days livin', cut to a minimum
I speak this shit cause I mean it my nigga
I creep and where I catch ya, is where I leave ya my nigga
A lot of niggas don't walk it, and talk about it
But this nigga B.G. goin' be dog about it
[Chorus: B.G.: x2]
Now when we come, we come, and dog we ain't playin'
It's bluka, bluka boo-yuka, boo-yuka, fla, fluka, flame
We a dog nigga, we walks that walk and talk that talk nigga
Nigga I'm 'bout Sherm smokin' and trigga hokin'
And leave my enemies dead and their fuckin' blood soakin'
Don't doubt it, it's C.M.R so I shout it
Like navigation, I map it out, route it then be a dog about
I lay low, jack you for every dollar and paceo
That's all Hoo-Bang did, homies above, everything else I love
Say B.G. you need a hundred stack from Mack
You'll need 20 jugs of water plus a whole gang of crack
But firsts things first, find him, hit 'em with the tool
Then make his blood ooze until there's no more to lose
Murder, murder's a must, take the stairway to heaven
And if you fuck wit Mack, then it's a 187
So if you do me, then I'll do you
But when I do you, I want your whole fuckin' crew
So fill the church up and get the units you recite of
I'm a straight dog about it plus a West side rider
I hit the street, you know I be thugged-the-fuck-out
When I beef, slugs get bust at your house
All week, its drama, ya block like ghost town
You want peace, its too late the water started to boil now
I tried to tell ya when you was buckin', "Settle down"
I tried to tell ya that, "Lil' B.G. is ghettoed down"
I tried to tell ya that, "Niggas raw from Uptown"
And release nothin' but a hundred plus rounds
Hold up B.G. blood, check it, I gotta know homie
And this punk we thought was a real nigga is a motherfuckin' phony
Big Stunter Corlone gave the word and now it`s on
Said he wanted a close casket, chigga-chop` em in his dome
Then act like Rambo, turn into Mack Soprano
Fill him full of ammo, the blood gushin' from his flannel
Fluka-flames wit nothing but red-dot aims
Chicken heart plucking out a Chevy, ain't a damn thing changed
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