Puffin on Blunts and Drankin Tanqueray

[Produced by Dr. Dre] [Intro: Dr. Dre] Yeah, yeah, yeah Yo yo, let's do this shit "I thought I thaw a puddy tat" You'se a punk-ass nigga Yo, yeah Yo, Death Row's in the motherfucking house Wrecking shit you know what I'm saying This is Dr. Dre in the motherfucking house Yo, I got my homeboys in the house Tha Dogg Pound's definetly in here, yeah I got my nigga Kurupt ready to wreck some shit Yo, you know what else I got in the house? Yo, so diggi-Daz step up on that ass Yeah, guess what's in here? My homegirl Rage, I said my homegirl Rage Yeah, the lyrical motherfucking murderer's in here Yo my nigga Glove behind the boards Yo dropping that funky-ass bassline, yeah You know, you know there's alot of punk-ass niggas out there A lot of punk-ass bitches out there Yo you wanna write names? Yo that nigga Eazy-E, he's a punk-ass bitch, really though Yo that nigga Tim M-U-T, he's a punk-ass biatch, biatch You know what I'm saying Oh, oh, oh Luke, I didn't forget about you, biatch Really though Yo, Death Row's in the motherfucking house Running the 9-3, you know, yeah But right about now There's a little freestyle session going on, in the studio We just kicking back getting fucked up and all You know, puffing on a few blunts Drinking on a little bit of that Tanqueray, Tanqueray Yeah Tanqueray's definetly in the house You know what I'm saying Cause I'm feeling it baby I'm feeling it, really though So-a, right about now, aiyyo Rage Yo Rage, yo run that shit G [Verse 1: Lady of Rage] Always and forever, forever and always The rhythm will flow from now and through all days As long as the sun shines As long as Eisenhower's on the dime Yo, I'll be kicking the rhyme One time for your mind, your soul, your body The OG's on the side of me Smooth as E & J, hard as Bacardi Smacking those yaddy-yacks ducks that keep quacking Hens that are cackling, end up crackling Under the heat, the pressure from the one that's deffer Egyptian ruler, call me Cleo or Nefertiti, yes indeedy Got the eyes that are beady, body from Tahiti Voice of the wind lyrics, blow Chills up your spine I send, so All thoughts in your mind drop 'em yo You came in the front but you'll be kicked through the back door If you try to step, try to come incorrect Try to play the left, try to start a mess Try to cause a fuss, try to raise a ruckus Huh, you'll end up ashes to ashes, dust to dust A busta, you musta been buggin on drugs And alcohol back off, all a y'all, up against the wall Spread em, Doggs - go get em Hand-cuff em and stuff em, cold shut em, don't let em Utter a word, not to mother or Herb If you try you die, visions blurred, speech slurred Served with a cherry on top Rage in effect I just begun to rock Yeah rock on witcha bad self (Rage) Rock on witcha bad self (Rage) Rock on witcha bad self (Rage) Rock on witcha bad self [Verse 2: Dat Nigga Daz] Yo, I'm Dat Nigga Daz who packs a tre-8 slug A true nigga from the hood and the Pound gives love You see niggas wanna be down but never came around So back up off my nuts and stop sweating the Pound You see, niggas get broke off like 1, 2, 3 Cause I'm the D-A to the, D-A- to the Z Now G'z pay attention to this young ass mack daddy In a Caddy, had he Not known about the city where the niggas hang around So I roll em up, and hit em up with the motherfucking Dogg Pound [Verse 3: Kurupt] I'm rough and rugged, and up to do dirt I'm from the Dogg Pound nigga so I'm putting in work I'm no joke, who the fuck you trying to provoke (1-8-7) It's cold how his ass got smoked I don't drink no fucking V-S-O-P I drink a motherfucking O.G. Olde E I'm from the clique that be kicking the gangsta shit bitch Real niggas real G'z with real big dicks I hit em up with the Pound, so what you wanna throw up Claiming you're cocaine or cavi when you blow up Know what, the Pound's in the motherfucking house Back again we try to get high as we can Dr. Dre, be kicking fat rhymes and produce, and kick shit I gets more wicked than Beetlejuice Motherfuckers get battered, so scatter before I keep you Hostage, a nigga hostile like the grim reaper So, I'm coming from my hood, what hood You really like to know, wouldn't you, I thought you knew Motherfucker don't you know I'm stranded on the Row I take a look into the crowd kick a style a flow I'm mashing, motherfuckers get murdered for asking Relax kid, you're rollin with a fucking assassin I last did dirt the other day Portray, the role of a G, from the D-O double G P-O-U-N-D, Pound so bow wow motherfuckin marks The execution starts, when the Chronic is sparked I'm like Barkley, rough and rugged, cause I'm like baldhead(??) Wrecks I flex murderous rhymes to leave you all dead What's said is what's said, it's already spoke The dead is the dead I Ain't No fuckin Joke I murder motherfuckers as a hobby One of my idols Ain't No Joke, so why in the fuck should I be Fly me, to the Bahamas, ruff rhymer, drama's What you're kicking, wicked is how I'm-a Approach you, the locster, who's quick to up and smoke you You're lookin like a smoker, grinning like the joker I yoke you from da back like a bitch talking shit Cause a bitch ain't shit but a ho and trick, on my dick Flip, lets take a trip to the Dogg Pound Fools tried to punk me when I was young, but I'm a hog now And I gets respect and I step with a Tec 9 Ready to put somethin up in that ass so you respect mine Fool, Death Row ain't Lynchin and the Pound ain't Mobbin We all don't give a fuck, run in your crib and start robbing Throbbing, I'll break a nigga down in the 90's Maxing at the Pound wit my doggs is where you'll find me, beeotch [Outro: Dr. Dre] Heell yeaah You niggas can't fade this shit, you know what I'm saying Death Row's in the motherfuckin house The Dogg Pound's definetly in here, you knowhatI'msayin And ay yo yo yo yo yo, you niggas can't fUCK with this So don't even try it Stay in the studio all you want, stay in the studio all you want Cause you can't fuck with this, see ya