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that top dogg nigga - top dogg lyrics lyrics

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[verse 1: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
you m+th+f+ckas already know, when i stepped through tha’ do’
slow with the roll, i came to f+ck up a show
get this b+tch knockin’ off tha’ hook, i got this weed, with this drank, and some rubbers in my pocket+book
so take a look, i’m off the hook like a g’
and that n+gga talkin’ sh+t, you can’t see me
lookin’ like you in a pyscho+zone
n+gga get locked up, now you barkin’ sh+t all in the microphone
but i’m not trippin’ off the dumb sh+t
too many styles for you homie, a n+gga ’bouta run sh+t, done sh+t
then hit tha’ f+ckin’ corner, ’cause if you f+ckin’ with tha’ dogg, then you’s a f+ckin’ goner
a n+gga wouldn’t want ya, ’cause i play dirty, like dirty harry
hangin’ outside with sl!ck, curby, and larry
on ah m+th+f+ckin’ mission its da’ gangsta sh+t
with that death row, and darkside+astic sh+t+

[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n+gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n+gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight

[verse 2: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
hold up, pause
i cook it like a chef
i count it like a ref
smoke it ’til its nothin’ left
and then i turn around and pick up a cup, ’cause i’m that tall slim n+gga, that dont give a f+ck
with my .9 in my spine, on the grind all the time
at the same time gettin’ at a m+th+f+ckin’ dime
with my ghetto ass here, and my piece on my neck
white t+shirt and some gas, what the f+ck you expect?
i still look fresh, whether its flesh, or tb
scratchin’ n+ggas and these b+tches off my d+ck like a flea
’cause i’m tha’ top dogg, boss hog, i f+cks, all y’all, f+cked every time, [?] aw, fo’ show, dawg
[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n+gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n+gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight

[verse 3: y.g.d. tha top dogg]
n+ggas ain’t sh+t
but some m+th+f+ckin’ fleas and rats, wanna squeeze they gats
when they see a young ballin’ m+th+f+cka tryna stack: it snaps
pockets grip’, look into his rearview+pop in his clip, (fo’ what?)
’cause he trust no one (d+mn)
they may never leave the house with out packin’ a gun
nah, these streets ain’t sh+t, (dawg) y’all n+ggas be trippin
spot tha’ dogg in traffic, and they think i be slippin’
but i’m so [?], [?] technique
that even my freak, gotta hold a heat
’cause my stylin’ so sweet, that all these n+ggas gonna be up to creep

[chorus]
tha’ top dogg, n+gga, rips it, riiiiight (riiight)
he just spits it, tiiiiight
tha’ death row, n+gga, rips it, flyyy (flyyy)
he just rips it, and spits it, and kicks it tight



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