Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five
Four, three, two, one
Snoop Dogg, here we go

Nigga, understand
West Coast son of Sam
Drumming wit' a hunnid bands
'Cause that ain't shit to a real Crip, cuz
You'll swallow every clip before a nigga slip, cuz
Lbc, yeah, we gets love
213, rest in peace Nate
It's real in the field, keep your cleats laced
Crack a bitch, hit the switch and make the back scrape down
Smoke a pound when I move around, yeah
The world is my lounge chair
Real sharks turn guppies, y'all drowned here
When everyday to me is New Year's Eve, Swizzy the countdown (Snoop)

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five
Four, three, two, one
Snoop Dogg

Now I'm back getting another bag
Clocking the grip, never gon' slip, I put the "R" in Crip
C's up, G's up, B's up, oh
He's up, we's up, Easter
Get a real woman, don't trust these slu-
And when you're around the cops don't say three much
It gets cold for a winner in the winter
For a rich Crip shit can get (yeah) Bigg Dogg, pick of the litter
Stopped drinking 'cause my liver act up
And I'll bring back the savage like a round
Gold and black flannel, grip gripping on a handle
Selling weed, selling songs, got shows on four channels like

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five
Four, three, two (countdown), one
Snoop Dogg

Go crazy in this muthafucka right now
Go crazy in this bitch, muthafuckin' now
Go crazy in this bitch, right, right now
Go crazy in this bitch, right, right (Snoop Dogg)
C-R-I-P, y'all ain't gon ever see a G like me again
So get a glimpse of a winner
A rich Crip, shit can get-a
Swizzy the countdown

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five
Four, three, two (countdown), one
Snoop Dogg

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr., Kasseem Daoud Dean