Lookin At You

Walking down the street in my All Stars
In my khaki suit doin what I do

Walking down the street smoking chronic

In my black locs lookin at you

Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
It's the motherf**king messiah of gangsta rap
Still dip in the six-fo' still puffin on the same chronic

Haters mad cause I still got it
I never fall off even without the Doc
You niggas sellin your soul trying to stay on top
Bitch nigga check your Kotex
You niggas ain't moving shit like the hand on a fake-ass Rolex
I'm five million sold
The cover of my last album the only time you see me sittin on gold
I'm the most anticipated most celebrated

Most loved and the motherf**king most hated

Keep rolling like gold Daytons
Niggas got the game f**ked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser
You gotta deal with me I'm the West Coast savior
Niggas think of me every time they six-fo' scraper
What do you call a nigga who's overbearing

Belligerent foul defiant and very disrespectful

You call that nigga the Doctor's Advocate
He's a reflection of Dr Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
And gave him a blood test
It came back G-A-M-E positive
The nigga's infected with the Game virus
His oratorical skills are so impeccable

That niggas in the streets call him Cyrus
The young damu's down with violence
Cause in his heart he's a tyrant
It's not a game it's just called The Game
There'll be no referees no halftime reports

When the game is over The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men

THAT'S the end
Walking down the street in my All Stars

In my khaki suit doin what I do

Walking down the street smoking chronic

In my black locs lookin at you

I done been to hell and back
Left for dead you know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the motherf**king snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment you old-ass niggas
Get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwing back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
I'm D O C certified Ice Cube lynch'd me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You still with me
Me and my mic can't be separated like Interscope and - hahaha

Ohhh shit

This some good ass motherf**king weed

California sticky green

This is the aftermath for the Aftermath

West coast