40 Oz and Chronic Dice Mr. Doctor (Ft. Brotha Lynch Hung & Foe Loco)

(Hook) (Doc)
Finally the sun went down in the hood and I was budded
Dice game and fat sacks a indo
Serviced with High Times and maybe
Rainy days blew me away, so I drank the 4 everyday
Matter fact it was a murder present
One-eight-six point duece that was ridin wit one-eighty-seven
(40 ounces and chronice dice)
Yeah, I stay high muthafucka

(Lynch)
On my briefcase is some crumbled weed
Buckshot shells from a dead body
Got a whole bunch a 40's and a couple a hoes
A '95 Fifty sittin on Trues and Vogues
Plus I had a nine in my glove compartment
Cause everywhere I go niggas love to start shit
Five pound chronic dice, in my mits
Fifteen teflons, in my clip
Heard about a lot a sick shit in the block, so
I stay locc to the brain and remain incognito
With my twenty sack a the bomb
Money back guarantee, if you hit that shit and don't wanna kill yo' mom
Got the clip, Glock, Chevy Impala that don't stop
Stop the Glock, no you can't the Doc from the gangbang nigga
So up goes yo' trigga
Stayin high off the sensamilla
And my nigga say