mr doctor – treat ’em like hoez lyrics
(feat. brotha lynch hung)
[mr. doctor]
b–tch, i see you standin in the window, fiendin
one o’clock at night a n-gg- high and baby fiendin
you made it a m-th-f-ckin daily routine
to blow me up, but i ain’t callin less i wanna get my d-ck (ah)
oh yeah i got the present, ? for the kicks y’all
get a carter coat to go with that and i might stay fo awhile
n-gg-ro gotcha fiendin for the flavor of d-ck
gotcha cravin it, even gotcha tastin
the sh-t was simple when i f-cked you on the first date
d-mn you must of known i’d go up in ya cus you had on that lace
that night, hooker, i ain’t forgot the thick brown -ss
but i’ll just hit it when i want, yeah i like the way ya f-ck
(then why you never call?)
cus i be stuck in traffic, or handlin business,
why you give me static bout it
ya know you aint the only one so what ya trippin ho
youre fiendin for the deuce-nine d-ck
and f-ckin my homie from the four ya know
[chorus]
ya treatin me so bad
and i wanna know why
why did ya do me this way, baby
i wanna know why
why, why did ya treat me so bad
whoooooa, i wanna know why
why did ya treat me, treat me
treat me, baaaaaad
why did ya treat me so bad
[brotha lynch]
well i’m so high off this chronic sh-t
i b-mped my head on a helicopter
and i ain’t knowin what to tell my doctor
a couple of hits’ll have yout fiendin 24 street d-ck
the night-stalker from the fo’
lose a hoe, bruise a ho
do ya hoe cus if ya do i’ll put you up
we’ll make some g’s up out of a momo ho
all the free dope you wanna smoke
and if i come up short, i’ll let you meet my mini mac 1-0
cus in the gardens where the chronic grows
we stay high, way high, b-tch what you think
i keep my skrilla up in the bank so ain’t no gank
so f-ck me or feed me or you don’t need me
find your bg, kickin it with my yg’s
and we just gettin high of this chronic sh-t
b-mpin heads on the helicopter
and we not knowin what to tell our doctor
a couple of hits’ll have ya fiendin 24 street d-ck
and break em off proper
[mr. doctor]
now tell me how many joints can ya smoke to this n-gg-
and how many b–tches will suck my d-ck
take a hit, take a hit, then you p-ss the sh-t
get to coughin eyes water, why you f-ckin with the chronic
cus we dip front to back, and my locos ride
b-mpin season of the sicc, switchin side to side
now let me slide to some gangsta sh-t
bout a b–tch that we was switchin fo the f-ck of it
and never had to claim that trick
blaze some weed, gettin paid from the sucka
and when a n-gg- leave, p-ss a homie on his way to f-ck her yeeah
had the b-tch down for the calls in fact
had the m-th-f-cka straightup macked
[brotha lynch]
and thats right b-tch, you know me
runnin that sh-t like so much pimp
some n-gg- got mad and went to the pad for the mac
but didn’t know, i packed a forty-fo
ho, remember when you touched me on my d-ck and said
oh! yo sh-t’s a rock, but you didn’t know
you touched the barrel of a forty-fo
fo in the mornin, ho you was at my door
and i’m knowin these raggety hos, so b-tch
you know i know you was at my locc’s house
f-ck the bullsh-t, ho
cus we know, we got ya fiendin
24 and 29 street d-ck
[chorus]
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