| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 0:55 | 
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| 2. |
| 3:55 | 
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Bellin
Strolling with a limp Sagging hard Mainly done by L.A street niggas Bellin Is not just a casual stroll But a way of life A movement First you take the rag Crease it Place it in your back pocket And bell But remember For all you square ass niggas Rips to the left Doggs to the right Not for niggas in tight ass jeans and penny loafers But highly recommended for nigaas sporting Khakis, house shoes and locs [Kokane] Oh my God Yeah, we back motherfucker WC niia, niia, BAAM BAAM! [WC] Keep it crackin I'm sick of all this bullshit yacking Y'all done fucked around and got the Dub reacting Lo-lows, broughams House shoes, or roams Once again its on nigga It's time to G on When it comes to gangsta shit Can't too many fuck with me Hang with me or ride to the highest level of ridetivity One to the neck Two to the neck I'm sticking them Leaving them scarred Bitch niggas get rode of they yard Hard Get off that shit You lost that shit See how many streets While you talk that shit Fuck who Billboard hanging And who take you banging and slanging I'm the hardest nigga in this game Famin the only one remaining It's time for confrontation The only one that's gonna swing them thangs Swinging with the Titanium flaming With the gun safety on F'n Fuck the whole world loc I'm bellin [Chorus] [Kokane] Yeah I got the remedy To make you want to come and ride with me You know I keeps it crackin cause it's a must Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk I'm a keep banging that gangsta ish And none of ya'll niggas can fuck with it You know I keeps it crackin cause it's a must Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk [WC] Sick as they come Sick as thay come WC got that bomb shit that'll numb your tongue Fucking it up in my dumb-da-da-dumbs Not a Dump-da-da-dumb Off that wet one Chucking up the finger and thumb Scrap it Clack-clack it And toss the liquor Clip the barrel And hang out the window And get off on niggas Snatch niggas, clap triggers Leave on the back of the grass niggas Fuck all you rapping ass niggas I'm a thank em' Let my nuts hang And dick dangle Come in with the shit that will make you break them ankles 'Cause I'm an all-season nigga Leave yah leaking nigga Thirsty gutter nigga Use a first........ nigga Disappear nigga We gonna be here Been shifting gears And doing this shit for years Off the liquor though Really though Fuck a video I'm getting in these hoes Nigga fuck what you yellin I'm Bellin [Chorus] [Kokane] If you see me saggin Don't say nothing It's just the way we bell When you see these Chucks You know I don't give a fuck It's just the way we bell [WC] Roll them in Wrote this song again... Pull them out and let them glide Hang them high Put them hankies in the sky Out of town niggas what you need Hit me Get with me Get tuned in to the realist nigga in this city And if you came to LA You never reached out and touched us Trust us Then you must have been fucking with bustas Hell yeah, I said it I'm a hog in this shit 'Cause my before me was none of this walking shit Keep it real When I was skipping on Benzos and Navies Ya'll was in tight ass pants with murphys in your khakis Ducking Now all of a sudden Niggas start super crippin So nigga taste these slugs Tuckin Nigga tuck in your chain and your tail in And shut the fuck up and make way for these fellas Nigga, I'm bellin |
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| 3. |
| 3:48 |
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Nineteen-ninety-eight, damn I can't believe it Whoever thought, throughout the drama, we'd live to see it So many of us done lost lives to the streets As we reminisce I'm pourin liquor for the deceased Thinkin bout the times that I spent with many of em Hopin that the Lord let me see the millenium Trapped in this ghetto main, seekin better days Fightin for my conscience, tryin to shake these wicked ways I know it's wrong but it's hard to change All my life, all I ever knew was hustle and game Lookin for answers ever since I was a adolescent Faced with rejection, early age stressin But now ten years later with doodoo respect I'm bustin million dollar raps and six digit checks Showin love to my peeps and my love don't change Here's a toast to you fakes, huh, here's to better days Might sound strange, but I just can't run away I can't run, run, it might sound strange but I just can't run away I can't run, no, run away Touch a meal ticket, shake a spot for good Never, I still got love for the neighborhood And even though now it's infested with gunplay on most days like Bootsy I can't stay away Cause if I s like y'all s on me Then whose gon' stay and guide the way for the lil homies? I can't turn my head on my folks so I stay visible in these streets and try to give hope Born in the ghetto, raised in the ghetto Got love for the ghetto, I can't forget the ghetto How come everytime we get some change in our can we run away and try to move out as far as we can? I know that jealousy's the devil's greed but you worse than a de |
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| 4. |
| 1:12 |
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| 5. |
| 4:16 |
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| 6. |
| 3:46 |
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[Verse: WC]
We been through SL Coupe Wrist froze like Igloo Big Lou, Tony get your sauce swirled Come twisting, Nina whistling that you with your home girls Big bankers, Big drinker, I see you sneaking A peak so I know you live these gangsters Freaky thoughts got me cussing at you Visualizing me in side ya, baby can we holla Lookie here lets skip the fake conversation and all the waiting My name is Dub what's crackalatin Certified rider, all nighter, dipping in the Impala Trying to get you with this anaconda Be your friendly neighbor-hood neighbor with paper Chrome and wood on the Chevy baby Bust rubbers go deep under covers A freaky mother fucka' we should get to know each other [Chorus: Case] Come take a ride with me baby Me and my homey bout to blow - Flirt I saw you at the light looking bright Banging from your head to your toes - Flirt Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little And if it's good, drink a lil' mo - Flirt [Verse: WC] Ain't no denying I'm straight buying You in that tight skirt Cause baby you got my flirt Shutting all rookies down Stub down Dub Cezzy A.k.a. Pussy Hound Who was snitching, punany technician Trying to make your head off from multiple positions Off a yatch and moet I fiend for sex, menage a trois and getting freaky of that ass Cause I insert it Squirt it wit you on top jerking it Playing Mystikal like "show me what you working wit" Running up in it playing dead duck let me put the plug in it Show you how a thug hit it Exchange lines, blazing drinks St. Ides Trying to do the damn thing wit you And your girl at the same time No commitments to make the butt riches, a machine loving m vocabulary, flirt [Chorus] [Verse: WC] I got a problem, and it's serious as cancer No matter what you call it baby I'm a fuckaholic Trying to get you on the lizo to blow And whistle my melody, part them legs open like the Red Sea Make you smack hit it from the back While I'm creeping in the hood blowing on dubs sac As long as your kit-kat gets wet and percolate No matter the color or size, I can't hate I like the skinny ones, thick ones the whole entre I even think I'm country for fat monkeys like Beyonce Wet lips and as ghetto as Vivica Nasty long tongue known for licking ya I might trick a little just to keep the litter But tripping as G gon' cause we goin sip I'm mashing to smashing There's too many asses I can't role past them, I'm getting at them [Chorus] (2x) [Outro: WC + (Case)] (You me, Dub-Cee) Uh, Dub-Cee (Flirt) Case (that's me) New millenium shit (baby baby babe) |
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| 7. |
| 0:33 |
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| 8. |
| 3:59 |
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[Ice Cube]
1, 2, 3, 4 Get you a bitch up on the floor You gotta get up and get down (WALK!) You gotta get up and get down (WALK!) [WC] To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH Bang, crease the starch Uh oh, here we go again Off the chain, that Dub SC gang State yo name [Ice Cube] Ice Cube motherfucker [WC] What's your name [Mack 10] Mack 10 motherfucker [WC] Well bang on, swang on Cause on mine I'ma G on, Dub C let a scene on Get my green on, with my white sling on Weather my rag in, with my khakis cuffed and dragging Three wheels, make the heat squeal This Westcoast shit is the shit that we built Who wanna bust with or fuck with him, and confess Y'all can't fuck with it, I'm out the roof with it, bang loose with it Dub C, from that Dub SC Fo sho to make ya peeps slang off the cheese man [Chorus] Walk, walk Niggas let me see you walk Walk, walk Bitches let me see you walk - 2x To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH Calling all cars, niggas look hard Near park cars, after dark Get toe start [Ice Cube] Ice Cube motherfucker, I represent this Don't mistake the masked up for the apprentice All you bitch ass niggas are defenseless Like a Catholic priest, and bout ten kids It's sunday school, I run you fools You ain't gone do shit I got the flip shit, to plant Spit it like I'm gone spit it Niggas wanna get it, but they won't admit it I'm connected and committed All the way bided, while you bullshitted I'm on exhibit, like a pitbull off the chain Motherfuckers gone flip out, ropes get ripped out Niggas gone trip out, crip out, get a four-fifth out Get bout, with a brickhouse, with my dick out saying fuck ya My whole career, I kept it gangsta and hustla [Chorus] [Mack 10] It's for the ghetto and the gutter everytime I spit For niggas that walk off that funkadelic shit I just might go psycho, and grab the automatic And let one off for the gangbang addicts Cause I'm westside connected like a hand in the glove And I'm the gangsta rap nigga that the D-Boys love Hopped out braided and valetd in the front of the club I hit the do' niggas speak, I hit em up with a dub And even on the east coast, I rep Hoo Bangin Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hanging Fin to bust a bitch to give head, that's eating the jaw And if I let my hair down, all the hoes all hoes Get ya hood, ya polo, ya tribe, ya ? And ain't no niggas in the game that can beat this group Mack 10 and Connect, is the hood I claim We do the damn thang, and it's off the chain To the Weeeeeeest, MARCH Calling all cars, niggas look hard Near park cars, after dark Get toe start - 2x [Chorus - 2x] (*ad-libs*) |
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| 9. |
| 4:12 |
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| 10. |
| 4:12 |
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| 11. |
| 3:20 |
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[Intro]
Yea . . Turn the music up a little bit . . . [*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah Uh, yea Lah-dah-daaah A little bit louder . . right there Dah-dah-daaah [Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets [Verse] Click click bu ya! Dub kicked the frame in (uh huh) Nigga let the games begin, as I standin' Tossed the tall can on a campus off the limital scanners takin' penitentiary chances Sick wit it, off the ric wit it Blue beenie knitted; freshly acquitted Grind-grimey, the big body and the big body Wit lyrics and 'draulics hotter than the Majave Sellin', brubble bellin', career felon Escalade 3-braid beer wearin' Fuck it, I thug for free and thug to eat Niggas call me "Home of Cake" cause I love the cheese Gangstas, hustlas, pimps, if ya follow me Let me see ya put them hands up like a robbery I solemnly swear to stay down and slang the seed I spit in the name of the streets [Chorus: Nate Dogg + W.C.] I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll) I'm gon' stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly) I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust) Hold my hood up high (throw my hood up high) In the name of the streets I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll) I'm gon' rich ride (I'm goin' rich ride) I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball) Hold my hood up high In the name of the streets [Verse] This is for them geniuz Da best is my East niazz Both sides street niazz This is for them DJ's coast to coast movin' this Spin-ni-nin them turntables that bomp the Ruvian Smashous, best trap us for cash and dump a blunt at ya's Outta the mix-classes, this is for them riders, ridin' for the mims Ghetto ass niazz on them big shiny rims (uh huh) Thrashin', you're back at ya, bring a debassa' Got dropping on your drastic, another hood classic Dump the "Ghetto Heisman" singing "more cabbage" A street niazz livin' on seek and kill status Unlock the racked Def Jam cock it back Recess is over, I want my spot back Who's the next? I preceded to blow coming at 'em I'm in a mink coat and Spacey gat 'em You're lookin' at 'em [Chorus] [Bridge: Nate Dogg] I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe I ain't a hater I'm a player so I fucked 'em both In the name of the streets [Outro] [*Nate Dogg in background] Dah-dah-daaah Yea . . . Lah-dah-daaah Dub-C . . . Dah-dah-daaah The "Ghetto Heisman" . . . [Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets Swangin' through a hood near you [*over last line of outro] Dah-dah-daaah Lah-dah-daaah Dah-dah-daaah [Nate Dogg] In the name of the streets |
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| 12. |
| 4:19 |
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Nigga that shit coming together
Like sweaty ass cheeks, nigga Keep it gangsta y'all Keep it gangsta y'all My niggaz thug out, you getting drugged out These bitches getting loc'ed out When we smoke out, 'cause we chromed out About to bomb out Here ye, here ye, calling all the hawgs Fresh outta the whole tank, bouncin' up the walls Dub-cee, the bandanna president, with the gauge on the ghetto Rollin' through y'all residents Runnin' the scene this is the king of the cars Thugged out baby in my new busta's Gangstas, all of them gangstas, none of them let me see up Ridaz throw ya heaterz up Ladies, OG'z, sorry that I've been gone But now I'm back to get my walk on Swang with the game as I reach out and touch ya Turn the cup up and get ignorant on this motherfucker Mayday, mayday, back in charge Calling out cars, calling out cars Dip, skip through the lane with the bang, bang, bang, jangle Hoppin' out the SS workin' all them angles Dub-shiest deep the scrilla, and I've got my homeboy Hell yeah, the motherfucking villain 1 to the 2 to the 3 to the, hello Look at these g'z working these fake ass sopranos Here come the Villain with another heater With motherfucking Dub nigga in the two-seater On my nuts while I west west y'all Grab that microphone and I test test y'all Villian baritone be like all over y'all Who wanna ball with that Black nigga Ren? Like the Don Mega I'm supreme hustling Dub-cee, give a fuck if these bitches don't love me I wanna bang, I wanna ride I wanna slang, from the side, do it now It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off I wanna bang, I wanna ride I wanna slang, from the side, do it now It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off Gangsta Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Upon 'em again and I'm er running 'em again, look at it With da-da-day, with da-da-day Dub rock it, let your flag hang from your back pocket Draw on 'em, on 'em, on 'em can't none of 'em Eat with me, eat my style but y'all can't get rid of me I heard y'all C-Walking now, yeah who taught you? What you could say who? Nigga why I oughta smack all the spit out of you Beat the shit out of you, get at 'em dumping, stomping Dippin' in the 600, saggin' in my overalls blunted Finger and thumb it, quick run This gangsta shit Dub-Cee runnin' Here son, steady pumping I come through punking Y'all think y'all rollies, shooting them high styles like Kobe So shut up and kneel to these West side parolees And pass the blunt, 'cause none of y'all can hold it We got the niggaz (We got the bitches) We got the killaz (We got the riches) We got the dealers (We hit the switches) We got every fucking thing you want And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don't We got the niggaz (We got the bitches) We got the killaz (We got the riches) We got the dealers (We hit the switches) We got every fucking thing you want And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don't Who that nigga that you fucking with? When you want to hear some motherfucking nigger shit Call the villain and I'll bring hot lyric Waltonville to hit your bitch nigga ren with it Y'all need to quit it This shit legendary, fuck around With it and yo mama get buried Your first born and that bitch you just married Who give a fuck pop that baby, she just carried Hubbin' all black like my fucking skin tone How the fuck you gon' talk about the villain, you a clone Bitin' every time you bust, who gave all y'all balls to cuss? Weak motherfuckers better say us So if it ain't Ruff, it ain't my shit Might a bit mad at the bitch that ate my dick Hate my clique, bitch-man 'cause I won't hit A nigga that I ain't fucking wit' I wanna bang, I wanna ride I wanna slang, from the side, do it now It's do or die, we can ball till the wheels fall off And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off Gangsta Please believe it, please believe it Please believe it, please believe it Please believe it, please believe it Please believe it, please believe it Please believe it, please believe it |
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| 13. |
| 4:20 |
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Off that ignorant, belligerent, gorilla people like mugilla
From the chickens, liver, stanky rivers like kitty liver Take my finger out your putang you smelly Funkadelic With Funkadelic reteric for you relics (The buffalo fake the nigga street sweeper) The Grim Reaper's grim reaper I'm a Don like Magic Juan, off that sauvignon The game sprays out of my mouth like a can of Krylon Riverside to Saigon, I'm killing each track I rhyme on You had tights on like you had nylons on Boogie banga funked out panty stainer Ghetto enough to get TV reception with a coat hanger Smell me (It's the [unverified] words man) Fake comedy for my accident done on purpose About to set the fly one, down with the ghetto Hiesman I'll serve niggaz in the third person don't even try it Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Timber, Hawk, it's the big hawk Ready to chalk With the boom ping, ping That make the Dre swing, swing Flipped and slipped and clipped equipped the trigger Hit, click, click, click, click, click Nigga, dissa, stealer, scrilla Did-a anybody kill her? I'm blasting None of them like Danskin Closing caskets chromed Put my L.A. throat back on It's back on and getting cheddar In my ride with the blue feather, in linen Strolling with the vengeance And when I make that gun clap Bitch, niggaz roll like pigeons So if you claiming than brang it And be about the drama It's WC and I ain't your mama Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Nigga make way for the big bomber Mr. all night rider, original bang hand glider Scuffing up Chucks swiftly Looking for a spot launch that mini mat And that's a hard hat Do it till I get you, pistol grip whip you Nigga, your pitiful, picture me back burner material Never, scraped off serial numbers and brought [unverified] Ditching your block when live while you work 'Cause it ain't no half repping Either you riding or not, cock it or keep stepping Come on, feel the breeze What, y'all ain't know? I got a squad so cold We freeze all area codes, they need this, real Gs Critical thesis bound to break shit down to quarter pieces For real, Devil, the boss under the Dub Swanging, giving orders to chickens and thugs It ain't no bitch in this industry that flow like me Matter fact, it ain't to many niggaz that can see me For sure I've been none to loc for way too long Now the spot lights on me, so believe me its on Its funny the way I'm hated, always underrated But ya'll hoes couldn't come with it if you masturbated Niggaz wanna test me, I wish you would Lyrics bang more harder than niggaz bang they hood I come through unexpected like the in Vietnam grenades Got so much heat I make the Devil run for shade This ain't no game nigga, so don't fuck with T Mess around and be headlining on Unsolved Mysteries I got warrants for my arrest by the FBDs For pushing off [unverified] trying to take these keys A female fely in Burberry Picking up money from the commissary Don't fuck with Terry Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose Vaboom, he's back to putting in work Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose WC, Dr. Stank, Devil, Lady T Swang on, swang on |
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| 14. |
| 3:18 |
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| 15. |
| 5:17 |
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| 16. |
| 5:11 |
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