(Yeah, Big Snoop Dogg, X to the Z)
Yeah
(Uncle L, blast these bitch ass motherfuckers)
Yeah, yeah
Pour your Dom on the floor, try to flow with me
Duke 'em raw with them whores, hide ya hoes from me (woo)
Your mama wanna chase, I'm just statin' the fact
L.A. think about your broad all I want is the stacks
Cats flashin' in my face is who I'm laughin' at
So you made a little dough, but what you doin' wit that?
Thought 'cha girl ain't feeling me
Why she grillin' me, Black?
Admit I'm the man or else I'll twist ya uterus back
On my lap, in the jet to Miami and back
When I tear through new school, all y'all records is whack
I'm from Q, for Quiet Killers
And you know I deliver
The double N, enough ammo for every nigga
S, that spell Queens stupid ass, run it back
That HBO shit, I must address that
Once and for all, what's my opinion on Jamie Foxx?
He pussy, plus he ain't funny as Chris Rock, ha

You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me

Loko
Who you thought it was? Don't be fuckin' wit my Uncle, cuz
One does up dick the pen in my streets go one way
I kill 'em In Living Color, on Any Given Sunday
They all anxious to be waitin' to see how ill is my style
And if it enough to make Kevin Lyle spit this out right now
And get 'em with Juvenile feed pitbull puppies, bologna in the projects
You wanna die next?
Nah, he wanna live, and he loves his kids
We got this rap game on lock, like a cake rock
Gimme the key, run up in your spot
Like, you on your belly, gimme the key
What is it gonna be, what it is gonna see?
When your blutter don't mean
And I keep tryna wipe it off, like, "Nigga, what's on me?"
L got 'em cornered, bitch, why you speak like that?
Tattooed Def Jam under your wing like that
What? You a rider, not in my house, Mouth
Glad to escape down south to my Miami house
And fifty spring in the couch

You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me

Let's play a game of big bank take little bank (yeah)
Big dank take little dank (yeah)
I average ninety-five in the paint (c'mon)
We comin' down like a shank
I know you wanna ride, but you can't
We all up in your shit like a shank (uh)
Don't make me stop and pull brakes
Ya two downs are looking cool, freaking a sound
Yo, I get fucked up and terrorize the town
I'm the circus ring master so fuck the clowns
I bust, lyrics and rounds at the Lyricist Lounge
Lost and Found a new identity, from here to infinity (yeah)
God have mercy on all my enemies
Don't even test, waist your breath or your energy
Knock ya whole family off, like the Kennedy's
I'm pledge sicker than age, with no type of remedy
Makin' niggas retire but reclaim disability
Agility, keepin' y'all outta the state penitentiary

You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me

Look, nigga I, regulate, bake the cake
Shake the fake, while keeping my faith
Demonstatin' from the funk shit to the H
I bring the bread to the meat, so put the funk on the plate
You weedin' at my table, did you say your grace? (huh)
You say the wrong thing and I'ma smack your face (bitch)
Chase these niggas or waste these niggas (say what)
You did fucked up, cuz, I'm break these niggas
Sprayed them, liquidate 'em, fade 'em all
Suckers, I hate 'em, laws I pay them off
Big Dogg, in this motherfuckin' bar
Wit Uncle L, don't tell Baby Dogg, "Yes y'all"
We do this with no flaws
I love my bitch wit no drawers and no bras
No laws, we break 'em from the get-go
Slidin' by, riding high when we get-go
Love it or leave it, we love livin illegal
Servin' or swerving in a '85 Regal
Look here, bitch, you ain't a motherfuckin' beagle
I take off on your ass like an eagle
Wherever we go, we stay connected with my peoples
Just in case a motherfucker wanna G Funk
Two of the homies, and one of 'em got a piece on
And they never hesitate to dissolve

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Calvin Broadus, George L Spivey, James Savage, James Todd Smith, Maqbool Ahmed Sabri