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letra de it's all your fault - drunken master

[kurupt (drunken master) {both}]
“drunken master. uh-huh-huh-huh-huh.”
(“yeah, n-gg-. uh. uh.”)
“you know what? yeah, this kurupt, young gotti. dogg pound-like gangsta
-ss-ssin. numba one.”
(“drunkenstyle, baby. c’mon.”)
“huh? it’s like this, homie.”

we don’t stop. we pop glocks
we got nots. we clock knocks
i bust shots. i’m raw dog
kurupt’s a hog. o-g for the dogs!

“uh! uh. it’s like that, ch’all!”
(“it’s goin’ down. let’s get some freestyle sh-t in here.”)
“y-y-yeah! it’s like that, n-gg-.”

all my g-ngb-ngin’ homeboys throw it up. i’ma blow it up
make the spot flame. you don’t know my name?
i’ma tell ya somethin’, homie. you know the game?
i don’t got no strain, no type of stress
i protects myself wit’ the smif-to the-wes
westside, n-gg-. rida for life!
dogg pound gangsta, you know my wife
and d-dough, i come through and blaze the weed though
drop n-gg-s down all the time. dogg pound all the time
when you see me bust a rhyme, believe it’s nice
ignite mics, homie. i’m cold as ice
and i’m percise like shots at point blank
these n-gg-s wanna come through? they get ganked!
my homeboy drunken master said,
{‘ayyo, kurupt, you gotta bust ’em}
{leave that b-st-rd dead, n-gg-.’}
so indeed i had to c-ck my heat
bust two shots, lay him flat in his seat
make his homegirl holla, then i bust her in bed
everybody know i bust rhymes, i come from the head
i’ma leave ’em all dead and you heard what i said
make ’em bleed ’til they bled, when you see me in red,
n-gg-, best believe i’m bleedin’
’cause the only color i blue is blue and you know it’s true,
it’s true. and, n-gg-, what i do is i ride
dogg pound gangsta, homicidal vibes, n-gg-
my heart pounds, everybody lay it down
you look around. bustin’ everybody on the ground
and if you got money, i’m in your pockets. strip ’em off
i get it right. b-tches get it off
the sideline to ride. homicidal indeed
kurupt, i run through and i blaze the weed
super fire in the back and the d-a-z,
and my homeboy, the s-n-double o-p
now we don’t stop. we pop glocks
(“it’s all your fault.”)
we clock knocks. rock non-stop
(“no hoe, no salt.”)
you just a b-tch and b-tches eat d-ck,
also you know that b-tches ain’t sh-t
see, i rock rhymes the drop of a dime
i’m one-of-a-kind. line-for-line
a dogg pound gangsta, you know me
k-u-r-u-p-t, d-p-g-c

[drunken master]
check it out. drunken master in the house chasin’ cash wit’ kurupt and daz
it ain’t my fault if i blast on yo’ busta -ss
drunkenstyle, n-gg-, time to put it down
professional chedda chasers ridin’ wit’ tha dogg pound
bustin’ off shots, headed for the weed spot
on your block b-mpin’ underground pac, n-gg-
p-ssy drunk, don’t make me pop the trunk
ayyo, kurupt! put the weed in the blunt
so we can bring the ruckus to these gangsta hatin’ b-tches
drunken master on the road to the riches
snitches catch slugs when they ride down my block
ayyo, kurupt, tell these n-gg-s what you got

[kurupt (kurupt’s voice sampled)]
i got sixteen mothaf-ckin’ m-16’s
fifteen nine millimeters with beams
fifteen mothaf-ckin’ mack-11’s
and mini-macks too, n-gg-. b-tch little n-gg-
punk mothaf-cka
(b-b-tch little n-gg-. punk-
punk mothaf-cka. b-b-tch little n-gg-
b-tch little-b-tch little-b-tch little n-gg-
punk mothaf-cka. b-b-tch little n-gg-
b-tch little-b-tch little-b-tch little n-gg-)

- drunken master

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