letra de that top dogg nigga - top dogg
[verse 1: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
you m-th-f-ckas already know, when i stepped through tha’ do’
slow with the roll, i came to f-ck up a show
get this b-tch knockin’ off tha’ hook, i got this weed, with this drank, and some rubbers in my pocket-book
so take a look, i’m off the hook like a g’
and that n-gga talkin’ sh-t, you can’t see me
lookin’ like you in a pyscho-zone
n-gga get locked up, now you barkin’ sh-t all in the microphone
but i’m not trippin’ off the dumb sh-t
too many styles for you homie, a n-gga ’bouta run sh-t, done sh-t
then hit tha’ f-ckin’ corner, ’cause if you f-ckin’ with tha’ dogg, then you’s a f-ckin’ goner
a n-gga wouldn’t want ya, ’cause i play dirty, like dirty harry
hangin’ outside with sl!ck, curby, and larry
on ah m-th-f-ckin’ mission its da’ gangsta sh-t
with that death row, and darkside-astic sh-t-
[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n-gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n-gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight
[verse 2: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
hold up, pause
i cook it like a chef
i count it like a ref
smoke it ’til its nothin’ left
and then i turn around and pick up a cup, ’cause i’m that tall slim n-gga, that dont give a f-ck
with my .9 in my spine, on the grind all the time
at the same time gettin’ at a m-th-f-ckin’ dime
with my ghetto ass here, and my piece on my neck
white t-shirt and some gas, what the f-ck you expect?
i still look fresh, whether its flesh, or tb
scratchin’ n-ggas and these b-tches off my d-ck like a flea
’cause i’m tha’ top dogg, boss hog, i f-cks, all y’all, f-cked every time, [?] aw, fo’ show, dawg
[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n-gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n-gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight
[verse 3: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
n-ggas ain’t sh-t
but some m-th-f-ckin’ fleas and rats, wanna squeeze they gats
when they see a young ballin’ m-th-f-cka tryna stack: it snaps
pockets grip’, look into his rearview-pop in his clip, (fo’ what?)
’cause he trust no one (d-mn)
they may never leave the house with out packin’ a gun
nah, these streets ain’t sh-t, (dawg) y’all n-ggas be trippin
spot tha’ dogg in traffic, and they think i be slippin’
but i’m so [?], [?] technique
that even my freak, gotta hold a heat
’cause my stylin’ so sweet, that all these n-ggas gonna be up to creep
[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n-gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n-gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight
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