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Dj Quik

Genres: Hip-Hop

Dollaz + Sense Lyrics - Dj Quik

Now let's get down to business, bitches 

'Cause it seems like y'all just keep on tryin' to diss this 

Nigga that you know that's been down for years 

I've clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers 

One two three four five six seven nine, ten, Eiht you can't win 

'Cause all the way around nigga I gets respect 

And youse a nigga that can't even get no props in your set 

Tragniew Park you say huh 

 

Wanna be rippin', but now it's time to do some set trippin' 

So listen close, 'cause I don't want y'all to miss 

That I'm bout to break it down for this bitch, check it 

Acacia, Poplar Maple Spruce Cedar Elm 

West side trees sprayin' all the fleas 

that's from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders 

So niggaz watch yo' ass at that center divider 

Now Aaron Tyler, tell my why you seem so tame 

 

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When I caught you at the airport, shakin' like a crap game 

You looked up and you seen my niggaz comin 

And you looked like your bitch ass was 'bout to start runnin' 

But all I wanted to do was kick a little conversation 

And see if we can fix this little situation 

But would I fuck you up was what you wondered 

Yeah, that's probably why you changed your little pager number 

But bitches like you don't grow 

 

You can't even look me in my eye, let alone go toe to toe 

And callin' me skinny, youse a clown 

I'ma call you Theo, 'cause you weigh ninety-two point three pounds 

Wack ass actor, movie script killer 

Fool don't you know, Quik is still the nigga 

Compton psycho, boy you oughta quit 

Your records don't hit, and bitches don't jock your shit 

You need to stay down you Compton clown 

 

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And get off of the nuts of the niggaz with guts 

Because I'm down with the Trees, I'm down with Death Row 

I'm down with Black Tone, and I'm down with the fo' 

So when we cross paths and I hope that's soon 

I'ma boot your motherfuckin' ass to the moon 

You need to quit bangin' under false pretense 

'Cause if don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the people, commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince 

 

Now I'ma swing it to the right and, right into the left hand 

Take a deep breath and, cook it like a chef and 

This is dedicated to the C-P-T 

No better yet T-T-P, or the niggaz that look up to me 

I make it my business, to be that true forever 

And whenever I can come clever well that's my endeavor 

So whether or not you understand, that there's only one DJ Q-U-I-K 

With no C still you can't be me 

Because I'm floatin' in my Lex and, depositin' fat checks and 

Gettin mad sex while I floss the NSX and 

 

Doin' what I wanna, and youse a goner nigga 

For thinkin that you can catch me slippin' on a street corner 

Remember Compton's in the house, and Quik is in the hood 

Sippin' yak with all my niggaz 'cause it's tooted good 

So don't knock it till you try it, 'cause Eiht he tried to knock it 

But he's still walkin' round with my nuts in his pocket 

So put tha P in it represent and sip that Miller 

And for those of y'all concerned, this is still Eiht Killa 

Let me take a load off my scrotum little pest 

If it don't make dollars nigga, you know the rest 

 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the people, commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince 

 

Now I done sold my fuckin' soul to the shit that I kick 

While you groupie ass niggaz keep on ridin' the dick 

You oughta know that DJ Quik ain't your average 

Everyday motherfucker, slick like a snake 'cause I stuck ya 

Now, I never had my dick sucked by a man befo' 

But you gon' be the first you little trick ass hoe 

Then you can tell me just how it taste 

But before I nut I shoot some piss in your face 

You fuckin' coward, tremblin' like a nervous wreck 

 

'Cause when I caught your ass, you put yourself in check 

And when you left my presence, you left expedient 

You ain't no fuckin' killer, youse a comedian, beyotch 

Tell me why you act so scary 

Givin' your set a bad name wit your misspelled name 

E-I-H-T, now should I continue 

Yeah you left out the G 'cause the G ain't in you 

Remember that time you was rollin' on the West side 

And a little brown bucket pulled up on your side 

 

Caught at that light in your Camry in the midst of a 

Real killer, tell me did you feel a little nervous 

You was in the shadow of death with two trey-five-sevens 

Pointed at your chest whatchu gon' do, where was your 

Niggaz that kill at you ain't got no killers so kill dat 

Holdin' up your hands and beggin' for a pass 

You lucky they didn't just to get to dumpin' on yo' ass 

'Cause this game you think is funny is some real shit 

So you need to be more careful who you fuckin' wit, beyotch! 

 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

I'm through playin' with your punk ass 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

So don't kill game, let the pimpin' commence 

If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense 

Because you gotta give it up to the crown prince 

 

Shouts goes out, to my well known road dog 

What's up Dozun Tru, they don't understand it baby 

They can't fade us out here on these Compton streets 

It's bigger than they can imagine to the whole entire 

Death Row family both sides, whassup niggaz 

And my nigga Big Suge, known for keepin' shit poppin' 

 

To my nigga Big J, my little nigga Hi-C, little straight G 

And that little singin' ass nigga Danny Boy 

Y'all don't understand, y'all can't fade this 

I'm the first nigga that was "Bangin' on Wax" 

Yeah if you remember, nineteen eighty-seven underground tapes 

And it don't stop, and it won't stop 

Writer:

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