Yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm finna be in the corner in my lowrider, dawg
Ya heard me?

Hm, yeah (whoa)
Top dollar with the gold flea collar
Yeah, it's still a G thang
It's time for all the lowriders out there (top dollar with the gold flea collar)
Yeah
All the dippers, you like to get ya dip on
Hit a switch or two, bang a corna' sittin' on threes
Yeah, right (top dollar with the gold flea collar)
Trip

It's like four and to the five and to the six and to the seven
I once was told that all Doggs go to Heaven
Well, how ya been? Where ya been and what it look like?
My game trump tight especially when it bump like
Four DPG's gettin' crazy
And No Limit is the label that pays me
Ridin' 'round town layin' game down like Goldie
And I remember what my mama showed me
Told me game recognize game
And stay true to what ya do and don't be ashamed
I got all my game from her sometimes I have to wonder
How I keep from goin' under, I'm a cold mothafucka
I fall to my knees and thank God before I do my thang (thank God)
I don't know why, I love to gangbang
See life ain't nothin' but a twist anyway, bitch, anyway
You can say what you wanna say
Just don't get in my way 'cause I'm a mean, old
Fiend know, C know and P know, see loc'
We make music for the thugs and the bangers
And the bitches
Fuck you R&B singers
She want a nigga with his khacki's hangin' real low
In a black (yeah) rag Sixty-four, hmm
Rollin' down the street lookin' way clean (way clean)
Bangin' that real shit, nigga like Al Green
I'm headed straight to the LB (LBC)
Forget it, that's what they tell me
Sell me everythang except some bullshit
And when it's time for the gunfight, nigga pull quick
'Cause ain't nothin' butter but us
And nigga you'll get wet up for fuckin' with my cheddar
It's cold outside, nigga grab ya sweater
And that bad bitch you fuckin' with
Nigga, she get ya set up
Boy, you done, put all ya trust in that ho
Didn't ya see what happened to the President Niggaro?
Livin' in a tight house, big as the White House
You fucked around and stuck ya dick
In that white bitch mouth
What you talkin' 'bout? (Huh?)
Fool, I'm dirty like the South
And to be real, I feel that's how I'm comin' out
Back on the ho stroll, highway pimp patrol
Put ya cuffs on ya, girl, nigga let her off parole
Man, nigga way cold with his game
What's his mothafuckin' name? Who me?
I'm the capital S, I don't fuck with stress
N double O-P D-O, mothafuckin' double G
The coldest entertainer, gangbanger since Alphonz Capone (say that then)
Count money like Basie, police tryna chase me
Niggas try to replace me but you can't
I'm ridin' in a tank, I'm blowin' hella dank
So whether ridin' in ya lo-lo or smokin' on some doe doe
Spread the word and take the photo
The Last Don done hooked up with the mothafuckin'
King of the coast with the most, here's a toast
And Snoop Dogg is the representer
Through the niggas and G's through the LBC's
And the Calio projects, Brooklyn to Queens
Chi-town, whoa now, the Dogg Pound in the house
Every time we touch down right next to my hometown
D-town (Detroit), Eastside St. Louis (St. Louis)
Spokane, get ya money, man, tic-tock (tic-tock)
Little Rock, right next to Houston, Texas
Home of Rap-A-Lot, we like to jack a lot (uh-huh)
Gimme what ya got (yeah), let me get that up out ya
Nigga, I got ya somethin' for the summertime while it's hot
And got the bitches posted up in the parkin' lot
And guess what? (What?)
She want the nigga with the biggest nuts (who dat?)
A nigga who don't give a fuck
Ya see, niggas like me, all we see is
Money, power moves, and a bitch a week
And last but not least my nigga B-O-Z
Much love from the N.O, my nigga, feel me?
And my little cousin D-A-Z, forever, nigga
This DPGC, and oh, yeah, and Dr. D-R-E (Dr. Dre)
You know where I'm at, nigga, holla at me
Get at me, holla at me, nigga, holla at a Dogg that's real
Y'all niggas know what's happenin'
It's still a (DPG)
It's still a G thang

It's still a G thang (DPG)
It's still a G thang
It's still a G thang (DPG)

It's still a G thang
It's still a G thang (nigga, DPG)

Yeah, and No Limit
From the LPG
Yeah, No Limit, yeah yeah
LPC, yeah rise
LPC, yeah, rise rise
LPC, uh-huh
Yeah, for life, for life
Low rise, something for the lowriders

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Calvin Broadus, Cecil Womack