[Verse 1: Mac Dre]
Once upon a time, before I had a seed
I was on the block with rocks and hella bags of weed
I’ve calmed down, used to live savagely
Hurt feelings, killings, a lot of tragedy
Once upon a time, I had everybody mad at me
Haters wanted to see them winning, rather me
Gradually, I started having cabbage, see
And only my real folks was glad to see me
MD, doggin’ and doin’ it
Staying true to the game, and never ruin it
You need nothin’ else but me on the menu
It’s Crest shit, Dubee, continue
[Verse 2: Dubee]
We went from cookin’ and joogin’ that crack sack
Strappin’ a backpack to blappers that rat-tat
Let your boy state the pure facts
Ever since a nitwit, me and my niggas been wit’ this
Runnin' wit' [?], marksmen don’t miss
And this shit, got me to the point I can’t help but do my thang
Slang mills, chops with the Furl, spinnin’ circles ‘round you lames
These cutthoat niggas came to snatch a stack of racks in flame
Snatchin’ everything in the way, a punk rock gon’ save
My work knock always, scrilla grit getta, sick nigga
Blappin’ a chop four-clip spitta, go get your clique, nigga
I’m hollerin’ ‘yo ho ho’ with this pimp-a-lish heem
J. Diggs, tell these cats what I mean (What you mean?)
Once upon a time, before I had a seed
I was on the block with rocks and hella bags of weed
I’ve calmed down, used to live savagely
Hurt feelings, killings, a lot of tragedy
Once upon a time, I had everybody mad at me
Haters wanted to see them winning, rather me
Gradually, I started having cabbage, see
And only my real folks was glad to see me
MD, doggin’ and doin’ it
Staying true to the game, and never ruin it
You need nothin’ else but me on the menu
It’s Crest shit, Dubee, continue
[Verse 2: Dubee]
We went from cookin’ and joogin’ that crack sack
Strappin’ a backpack to blappers that rat-tat
Let your boy state the pure facts
Ever since a nitwit, me and my niggas been wit’ this
Runnin' wit' [?], marksmen don’t miss
And this shit, got me to the point I can’t help but do my thang
Slang mills, chops with the Furl, spinnin’ circles ‘round you lames
These cutthoat niggas came to snatch a stack of racks in flame
Snatchin’ everything in the way, a punk rock gon’ save
My work knock always, scrilla grit getta, sick nigga
Blappin’ a chop four-clip spitta, go get your clique, nigga
I’m hollerin’ ‘yo ho ho’ with this pimp-a-lish heem
J. Diggs, tell these cats what I mean (What you mean?)
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