Dollaz + Sense

Mmm<br>Now let`s get down to business, bitches<br>Cause it seems like y`all just keep on tryin to diss this<br>Nigga that you know that`s been down for years<br>I`ve clowned for years, and y`all could never fade my peers<br>One two three four five six seven<br>Nine, ten, Eiht you can`t win<br>Cause all the way around nigga I gets respect<br>and youse a nigga that can`t even get no props in your set<br>Tragniew Park you say huh<br>Wanna be rippin, but now it`s time to do some set trippin<br>So listen close, cause I don`t want y`all to miss<br>That I`m bout to break it down for this bitch, check it<br>Acacia, Poplar Maple Spruce Cedar Elm<br>Westside trees sprayin all the fleas<br>that`s from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders<br>(So niggaz watch yo` ass at that center divider *gun blast*)<br>Now Aaron Tyler, tell my why you seem so tame<br>When I caught you at the airport, shakin like a crap game<br>You looked up and you seen my niggaz comin<br>And you looked like your bitch ass was bout to start runnin<br>But all I wanted to do was kick a little coversation (yo whatup)<br>And see if we can fix this little situation<br>But would I fuck you up was what you wondered<br>Yeah, that`s probably why you changed your little pager number (punk ass)<br>But bitches like you don`t grow<br>You can`t even look me in my eye, let alone go toe to toe<br>And callin me skinny, youse a clown<br>I`ma call you Theo, cause you weigh ninety-two point three pounds<br>Wack ass actor, movie script killer<br>Fool don`t you know, Quik is still the nigga<br>Compton psycho, boy you oughta quit<br>Your records don`t hit, and bitches don`t jock your shit<br>You need to stay down you Compton clown<br>and get off of the nuts of the niggaz with guts<br>Because I`m down with the Trees, I`m down with Death Row<br>I`m down with Black Tone, and I`m down with the fo`<br>So when we cross paths and I hope that`s soon<br>I`ma boot your motherfuckin ass to the moon<br>You need to quit bangin under false pretense<br>Cause if don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense<br><br>*chorus*<br><br> If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense<br>So don`t kill game, let the pimpin commence<br> If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense<br>So don`t kill game, let the people, commence<br> If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense<br>So don`t kill game, let the pimpin commence<br> If it don`t make dollars, it don`t make sense<br>Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince<br><br>Now I`ma swing it to the right and, right into the left hand<br>Take a deep breath and, cook it like a chef and<br>this is dedicated to the C-P-T<br>No better yet T-T-P, or the niggaz that look up to me<br>I make it my business, to be that true forever<br>and whenever I can come clever well that`s my endeavor<br>so whether or not you understand, that there`s only one DJ Q-U-I-K<br>with no C still you can`t be me<br>Because I`m floatin in my Lex and, depositin fat checks and<br>gettin mad sex while I floss the NSX and<br>doin what I wanna, and youse a goner nigga<br>for thinkin that you can catch me slippin on a street corner<br>Remember Compton`s in the house, and Quik is in the hood<br>Sippin yak with all my niggaz cause it`s tooted good<br>So don`t knock it til you try it, cause Eiht he tried to knock it<br>But he`s still walkin round with my nuts in his pocket (beyotch)<br>So put tha P in it represent and sip that Miller<br>And for those of y`all concerned, this is still Eiht Killa *gun blast*<br>Let me take a load off my scrotum little pest<br>If it don`t make dollers nigga, you know the rest<br><br> *chorus*<br><br>Now I done sold my fuckin soul to the shit that I kick<br>While you groupie ass niggaz keep on ridin the dick<br>You oughta know that DJ Quik ain`t your average everyday motherfucker<br>(hah) Slick like a snake cause I stuck ya<br>Now, I never had my dick sucked by a man befo`<br>But you gon be the first you little trick ass hoe<br>Then you can tell me just how it taste<br>But before I nut I shoot some piss in your face<br>you fuckin coward, tremblin like a nervous wreck<br>Cause when I caught your ass, you put yourself in check<br>And when you left my presence, you left expedient<br>You ain`t no fuckin killer, youse a comedian, beyotch<br>Tell me why you act so scary<br>Givin your set a bad name wit your misspelled name<br>E-I-H-T, now should I continue<br>Yeah you left out the G cause the G ain`t in you<br>Remember that time you was rollin on the Westside<br>And a little brown bucket pulled up on your side<br>Caught at that light in your Camry in the midst of a<br>REAL killer, tell me did you feel a little nervous (hell yeah)<br>You was in the shadow of death<br>With two trey-five-sevens pointed at your chest, hmm<br>Whatchu gon do, where was your niggaz that kill at<br>You ain`t got no killers so kill dat<br>Holdin up your hands and beggin for a pass<br>You lucky they didn`t just to get to dumpin on yo` ass<br>Cause this game you think is funny is some real shit<br>So you need to be more careful who you fuckin wit, beyotch!<br><br> *chorus*<br>(line 4) I`m through playin with your punk ass<br><br>Shouts goes out, to my well known road dog<br>What`s up Dozun Tru, they don`t understand it baby<br>they can`t fade us out here on these Compton streets (beyotch)<br>It`s bigger than they can imagine<br>To the whole entire Death Row family<br>Both sides, whassup niggaz<br>And my nigga big Suge, known for keepin shit poppin<br>To my nigga Big J, my little nigga Hi-C, little straight G<br>And that little singin ass nigga Danny Boy<br>Y`all don`t understand, y`all can`t fade this<br>I`M the first nigga that was "Bangin on Wax"<br>Yeah if you remember, nineteen eighty-seven underground tapes<br>And it don`t stop, and it won`t stop