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snoop dogg - my f**n house lyrics

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this is my mother f-cking house, eh i’m by the front door
here about a blond haired b-tch name sisco
she’ll do anything for daddy man the b-tch go
tell ’em what the doormat read baby big blow

uh pyrex and a digi scale
f-ck gloves i got yay all in my fingernails
and i can leave a set of white fingerprints
chris tucker, laurence tate, dead presidents
dead white boys spread across the coffee table
don’t know maybe i’ll start me up a record label
f-ck it get high and call what’s her name
she like to play this little game called f-ck a brain
lord when you talk them numbers sound sophisticated
it ain’t nothing even the pitbull’s affiliated
yeah and trust best gettin’ bust on
g sh-t even the coupes got chucks on

yeah
this is my mother f-ckin’ house n-gga
this is where i do it at
you gotta problem with that
yeah big dog n-gga
if you ain’t a big dog stay on the porch n-gga
dog house or nothing
dog house everything n-gga

i got a whole house trap house and a flat
i’m on parole b-tch so i need my pistol back
these rap n-ggas is too soft
i built this from the ground up pound up
until i knock your roof off

new boss snoop off and on and
heed him in the morning catch him while he yawnin’
my b-tch is on the phone and my homies ’bout to zone in
cracky smacky dippy whippy habitual potential
strip for your credentials

mental unessential sh-ts official like a referee with a whistle
nah my n-gga sh-ts official like a jihad muslim with a missile
catch me in the air we close to the nickel block
n-gga went platinum but i still serve that nickel rock
hard times bad times f-ck doing jail time
cook it up rock it up bag it up and sell mine

this my mother f-ckin’ house
take your mother f-ckin’ shoes off when you step in my house partner
matter of fact take your hat off too
n-gga this the round table n-gga
if you can’t stand the heat get your punk -ss up out the kitchen
i’m in this mother f-ckin’

this is my house in the middle of the trap
i’m gonna start sweating like i ran a f-cking lap
customers on hold stressing they keep coming back
three, six, five, two, four, seven, i got jumbo jacks
would you like your cheese with that
yeah i like my cheese with that
crack in the box round the clock
open all night pitching rocks
serving that goop stuck in my loop
pitching that tragic all in the traffic
me and my group me and my cabinet
goobly goop, goobly bag it

i got the key to this spot break in you don’t get popped
f-ck around and get molly whopped in here better not attract no cops
gotta hang around chop up in here who want what i got in stock
not from atlanta but i got heart
chickens birdies quails baking soda scales
heavy weights exhale 5 star hotels
i’m a grinder about my grit
trying to increase my profit quick
50 thou under the couch
this is my mother f-cking house

this is my mother f-cking this is my mother f-cking
this is my mother f-cking this is my f-cking house

this is my mother f-cking this is my mother f-cking
this is my mother f-cking this is my f-cking house

this is my mother f-cking this is my mother f-cking
this is my mother f-cking this is my f-cking house

this is my mother f-cking this is my mother f-cking
this is my mother f-cking f-cking f-cking house



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