And all who agree are more than three
I'm in the house now for sure
Because I wanna talk about the
Who knows what evil lurks within them?
And see what we find on this
so duck when I swing my shit
I get rugged like Rawhead Rex with
what I recite's kinda lethal
Niggas know the flow that
I'm murderin' niggas, yo,
and maybe because of the tone I kicks
When I grips the mic and kick
shit niggas can't fuck with
So remember I go hardcore,
'Nough respect like a sensei,
So any nigga that claim they bossin'
Why don't you bring your ass on over to
Take a walk through the hood,
Slangin' them things like
mackin' and packin' a ten so
When you're slippin', I slip the clip in
But ain't no set trippin'
Think about whoopin' some ass,
well what the fuck stoppin' ya?
Ain't nathin' but a busta
I'm stranded on Death Row for
pumpin' slugs in motherfuckers
Now you know you're outdone
Feel the shotgun, Kurupt, inmate,
it's time you learn braille
From a lunatic, I'm death like arsenic
When I kick up wicked raps
Dr. Dre will kick the scratch
my lit erary form will blast
And totally surpass the norm
When I'm vexed, I fight leg,
Deranged, like the Hillside Strangler
MC- mangler, tough like Wran gler
I write a rhyme, hard as concrete
The narrator RBX,cell block two
There'll be no repentance
Since it's the life that I choose to lead,
let the ball bounce where it may
It's just another clip into my AK
Facts and stacks of clips
Bed frame there's another dead,
Layin' lame put to shame,
A woman comin' from the D- E- A- T- H and R- O- W,
It's 187 on motherfuckers,
It's Rage, from cell block H
Ayo, steppin' through the fog and
creepin' through the smog
It's the number one nigga from the hood,
Bustin' raps for my snaps,
now they call me Eastwood
Dre is the doctor and my homie,
Warren G is my hand and my
Shootin' at the hoes with
Sent to Death Row 'cause I wanted to
make a grip from servin' my rocks
And I'm still servin' for mine
fuckin' homies doin' time
In the pen and the county jail
Mobbin' with your blues on,
And you're sayin', "Fuck the police"
And all the homies on the streets
And it's drivin' the cops crazy
But ain't nothin' but a black thing,
Or my motherfuckin' homie D.O.C.
You know you can't fuck with my
Doggy Dogg break 'em down with
the motherfuckin' Dogg Pound
That's the only way we'll
then choke 'em like the motherfuckin' Peterman
It's like three and to the two,
Cell block four, peace, Doggy Dogg's done
See if you could travel on
'Cause only the weak will try to speak
Those who are quiet will always
Those who wonder what happened
And people like us from the streets that make thing