Dogg Pound
Don Colion, whatever, whatever, Dogg Pound, East Side
Don Colion, whatever, whatever, Dogg Pound, East Side
Don Colion, whatever, whatever, Dogg Pound, East Side
Whatever, whatever
For all my homies with the eight tray wigs
And all the playas in the '79 Coupes
For all of my gang affiliates in tha hoppin' '68
This one's from me to you
Not the Under Dogg, call me the Wonder Dogg
I keep it crackin' while I'm stackin' in this game called rappin'
Now, I kick up my feet like I kick a rhyme to a beat
And every time you see me on the streets, I gots some heat
Hell, yeah, then pass the beat
And everybody wanna know what's up with me and Master P
For your concern, you knew there want no gimmick
When I got into some gangsta shit and told you want No Limit
To the thangs I'm gon' do, now it's really goin' down with the DPGC
Well, Daz did the beat and Kurupt got the heat
And Tray Dee, he laid the hook and Supafly played the keys
It get no realer than this
From the LB to the Down South, add more killers to this
Entourage, South, West, oh yes, we in charge
And we'll pull your cards, no disrespect or disregards
Life in the big LB is gettin' hard, so my squad gon' mob and drop bombs
Bring me along, we causin' everybody harm
I make ya scream, I make ya shout
C'mon, all you partyin' people, let me turn ya out
'Cuz you know I'm all about, the hoes, money and clout
And I rock a Long Beach City all the way down South
I make ya scream, I make ya shout
C'mon, all you partyin' people, let me turn ya out
'Cuz you know I'm all about, the hoes, money and clout
And I rock a Long Beach City all the way down South
Can you feel me? I can dig it
Hoes, take me to the bridge
Whether in a Khaki suit or a pimped stripe
I'm a G for G and nuttin' else for life
You can bet your bottom biscuit
You get twisted if you dwellin' in my felon intuition
Tha Doggfather is a household name
From basketball to alcohol, everybody love the Dogg
I'm sure Billy King, probably got a Doggystyle tape
Somewhere hidden in his briefcase
Newsweek, Rolling Stone, major magazines
Dope fiends, prom queens, we too clean
Take a look, you ain't ever seen
One hip hop rap star drop this West Coast rap-cord
Back to the spot up top
West Hills for real, give it up to him
A who bang with diamond
Take a hit with big Lajeezy before he found some wheezy
With blue Colion playin' in the background
On and on, behind line with big style
Hitting P, LIG, tell him let it go
Game strong, no longer in the roll
Just a few names from the respected files
LBC styles, DPG ale
I bought a house with a lake in the back
My big home stack just like that
I make ya scream, I make ya shout
C'mon, all you partyin' people, let me turn ya out
'Cuz you know I'm all about, the hoes, money and clout
And I rock a Long Beach City all the way down South
I make ya scream, I make ya shout
C'mon, all you partyin' people, let me turn ya out
'Cuz you know I'm all about, the hoes, money and clout
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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