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wrestling lyrics - dre- "187" lyrics

[dr. dre]
n-gg-rs that i used to know and sell dope wit’
listen to how a motherf-cker flow sh-t,
and let me know what’s up and they can blast on,
thinkin’ about the homeys that p-ssed on.
death row come to show you all the game at,
and show you how my label got the name that
so many wanna see me, and time is money,
but never in the p-e-n, yo.
welcome back to viet nam, california.
ain’t a d-mn thing changed, so let me warn you.
every motherf-ckin minute you on the west side,
the best side, 20 n-gg-rs that just died.
walkin’ down the streets of l.a.
stay strapped cause n-gg-s bust caps every day, yo
the 1-8-7 don’t stop, on undercover cops,
so on this spot gettin’ popped, shot,
droppin’ like this and like that,
rat-tat-tat-tat with their caps peelin’ back.
so creep when you in the c-p-t.
you catch heat from f-ckin’ with’ the d-r-e.
i got my eyes on the sh-t unfolding.
and there ain’t gonna be no trippin’
cause they know the type of sh-t that i be holding.
if there’s another word said,
i’ll let my forty-fo’ go buck to the head, n-gg-.
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop
[snoop dogg]
3 and to the 2 and 2 and to the 1,
head away, sent away, get away snoop’s got a gun,
and he’s lookin’ for the cops who set him up in ’86
now it’s time to put they -ss in the mix.
back on the streets with my khakis and my scars,
nuts full of cavi and i’m headed for the bar.
scared as a motherf-cker, cause i’m fresh out,
but i got to make my green, and plus they all fiend
follow me, they keep yellin’ murder, but it won’t stop,
until the last n-gg- that you know drop.
another n-gg- out, but i doubt that you really give a f-ck what it’s about.
now, 99 pigs on a block with me,
not a motherf-ckin’ cop wanna knock with me,
a c-o-n-v-i-c-t, the motherf-ckin’ d-o-g, comin’ from the l-b-c.
look at what the doc brought in,
a chrome 38, a fo’ty-fo’ mag, and mack 10
so what you wanna do? (what you wanna do?)
i got the gauge, a uzi and the mothaf-ckin 22
so if you wanna blast, n-gg- we can buck ’em
if we stick ’em then we stuck ’em so f-ck ’em!”
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop
splat to a motherf-cker face, he fall.
strong motherf-cker cause he starts to crawl.
i guess i gots to load the glock again.
hit ‘im with the hollow points and watch him spin.
f-ck it, i had to do this quick.
grabbed the glock 17, the clip went click.
tried to detect, but did not detect perfect
so i creep on that -ss, pops him and drops him.
that ought to stop from beatin’ up blacks,
dead in his tracks, from a full six pack.
relax, cause i’m about to take my respect.
i aimed the twelve gauge straight for his neck.
boo-yaa! boo-yaa! then i fade into the wind.
1-8-7 and it’s on again.
well it’s on, and it’s on, and it’s on, and it’s on,
fo’-fo’ desert eagle to your motherf-ckin’ dome
and it’s on, and it’s on, and it’s on, and it’s on,
fo’-fo’ desert eagle to your motherf-ckin’ dome.
f-ck ’em, buck ’em, if they really wanna trip,
n-gg-s keep your hands on your motherf-ckin’ sh-t.
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop
yeah, and you don’t stop,
cause it’s 1-8-7 on a motherf-ckin cop…

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