Aint no funk, its funky, its Doggystyle (Aint it funky nuff?)
(Death Row-ow, Death Rowwwww)
(Everybody knows I got more bounce than an ounce)
Shucks, stompin in my big blue chucks
More bounce to the ounce while Im ditchin you clutz
Bump-bump-bump-bump while youre bumpin your sounds
Its the zoo and the Pound we dont fuck around
Relax your mind and let your conscience be free
and get down, stompin grounds is the LBC
I slid up out the game and MCs get wacked
but now Im back (Oh shit!), so go get your strap
Watch your head, I break wit
wit Gs, Muslims, hardheads and dreds
Bounce, rock while rollerskatin
on them 20 inch tyres wit the platinum Daytons
Im not that BG poppin all that junk
about "Ill fuck you up", he sound like a punk
I been there and done that, no inspiration
All day illustration beat conversation
I keep niggas in the studio, word is bond
Been workin on ya new album for two years strong
and still cant come up with the right song
You know what they say:Study long, study long
All aboard the train so come along
cos we keep the glue stuff against the bone
Its alright aint no room for wrong
Doggyland is the motherland, make yourself at home
I got money loads by the barrels
I even got a few fans thats crazy like DeNiro
Im international money maker, player hater
shhok up off the sake of spendin dollars and I always holler
at a player though cos players know the real from the fake
You can put that on your toast, your coast and your state
I give you people what you like
What I look like in jail and cant get on the mic
Killin up crews, give em the real street blues
Have em slidin in their eelskins, groovin in their tennis shoes
Of course it dont stop bein a Westside ridah
Wit no tattoo thats how they got the clue
I lay conversation on wax and CDs
BGs and o-riginals, here come the mission
Makin biters ride the Pound for the rest of the season
Doggy DPG ya lil homey, uhh
I represent the LBC-ment
Windows tint, nigga thats the president
I hit you with a tune every blue moon
Collard on your plate so you can stuff it in your face
Nigga say your Grace before you touch your plate
It taste like its laced but it aint
This one puff uncut, no doubt
Everybody know I gotta ounce and a half
Shucks
(Oooh ooh ooohhh oooohhhh ooh, oooh oooh oooohhhh ooh)
(Death Rowwww, Death Rowwww)
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