Most niggas get it confused, right?
Huh, they think it's all chronic and palm trees
Out this motherfucker, bitches in bikinis, listen, huh

Some niggas is better left alone
I'll plant you underneath the very ground you walkin' on
And ain't no children in this motherfucker, drop your tone
Ain't got no business even fuckin' with no microphones
So yo, it's me against the world, and ain't got shit to lose
My heavy artillery built to make the masses move
I carry tools that'll pick you up and out your shoes
Xzibit bringin' new meanin' to alcohol abuse
I wanna fall up in the spot where all the bitches at
Holdin' somethin' heavy to help you straighten out your back
A couple of drinks and I bend you over the kitchen sink
So what, you think I owe you somethin' bitch for fuckin' me?
(Bitch) Get a grip, misery love company, check it
Xzibit show you the difference between real life and makin' a record
Makin' the moves and connections that you never expected
What good is money and the fame if you never respected
Check it out

You know, who's runnin' these fuckin' streets
(You get involved, you gettin slapped with the heat, nigga)
Don't be actin' like your shit don't stink (c'mon)
Y'all ain't fuckin' with X
You know, we roll so fuckin' deep
(Yeah, round after round in the middle of the street, niggas)
'Cause you're actin' like your shit don't stink

Yo, I ain't afraid of them fuckin' invisible gats
You always bringin' out in your raps
My shit'll quickly make you fold and collapse
My goal to strictly takin' over the map, by any means
Hustle and make more tracks than a heroin fiend
Keep my enemies on a first name basis
And hate them niggas like a skinhead racist
Chuck Taylors and fat laces
Stompin' hoes through y'all turf
I hurt worse than actual childbirth
A chick can suck my dick 'til the bitch squirt (ah-ah)
The song work, so ain't no playin' wit us
Findin out where you rest your head and I'm sprayin' it up
The remains that's left behind can probably fit in a cup
You pressin' your luck, you makin' yourselves easy to touch
I'm from the home of the hit 'em up, only two ways
You droppin' some shells or you get 'em up, back in the days
There was a time there was this woman that I want to keep up
But nowadays when I see you I'm just tryin' to fuck
So check it out

You know who's runnin' these fuckin' streets
(The king of these West Coast gangsta beats, niggas)
Always droppin' off nothin' but straight heat
So stay the fuck out of the way
You know, we roll so fuckin' deep
(Round after round in the middle of the street, niggas)
'Cause you're actin' like your shit don't stink
Y'all ain't fuckin' with Dre

Thangs just ain't the same since it came out
Two thousand and one, came blew the game out
I heard you was hot, blew your flame out
And got the nerve to believe you hold the same clout
I thought I told you, keep my name out of your fuckin' mouth
(But Dr. Dre!) See that's exactly what I'm talkin' bout
That shit right there, that's all day long
Just don't stop, I gots to be alone at the top
Forever ready, loaded and locked, with niggas that'll circle yo' block
And let 'em pop 'til some bodies get dropped
It's Doc Holiday in the flesh
(Still) Hold it down, represent, resurrect the West
(Still) Holdin' ground, touchin' down, with my nigga X
(Still) Send a couple through yo' chest if you disrespect
Dr. Dre comin' back (shit) I never left
The number one ranked highest paid celebrity guest
That's eight digits, motherfuckers

You know, who's runnin' these fuckin' streets
(You get involved, you gettin slapped with the heat, nigga)
Don't be actin' like your shit don't stink (c'mon)
Y'all ain't fuckin' with X
You know, we roll so fuckin' deep
(Yeah, round after round in the middle of the street, niggas)
'Cause you're actin' like your shit don't stink (yo)
Y'all ain't fuckin' with X

Copyright: RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Alvin Joiner, Andre Young, Dominick Lamb