move this paper I guess it's all the same to you But I can't sit around and wait Can't sit around and wait for you It never works, you said you'll call me later
than this nigga That's my favorite artist Fuck y'all hear the breakdown [Verse 1: The Game] No detox I'm comfortable dog Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog
one thing I can't stand is when fools get the set trippin' now I was down with the gang truce until I found out you was gettin' ganked by dr Suit (?)
bitch Straight bang that bitch, cause we trying to get rich Ain't no time for no haters, being all in our mix We gon hang that snitch, straight bang that bitch Dog
I would take Masta Killa and Golden Arms versus Power Man and Iron Fist Imagine Blade the black hunter of vampires goin after DMX the dog from the Ruff
the mornin' Threw on a 'fit, grabbed my Motorola phone And warmed up the engine to my ghetto ass hood hog And put the leash on my brand new pit bull dog
and tell Sheryl don't like Beans cuz Beans rude She wish Beans would go back to Chicago with her dude Sayin he don't like Dr. Wick but Dr. Wick don't
to sit between two large Albanian women with excruciatingly severe body odor And the little kid in back of me kept throwin' up the whole time The flight attendants ran out of Dr
do we go from here (Take it all you need me) [Yung Berg:] Yes sir Niggas said Dr Wine wasn't nothing 3 years later Dr Wine got a budget 4 years later
and let 'em all hurt Several years later Im the nigga in the tall vert Section A killer man all I need is yard work Hard work, flatland Adam-ville, dog
s something goin wrong with my brain I'm having split personalities like Razing Cane The Taker, and Mr, Predictor side-by-side So to send my love to Dr
sit Between two large Albanian women With excruciatingly severe body odor And the little kid in back of me Kept throwin' up the whole time The flight attendants ran out of Dr
here? Where do we go from here? (Take it all, you need me) Yes sir, niggas said Dr Wine wasn't nothing 3 years later Dr Wine got a budget 4 years later
be the homeboy's lady (oh, that bitch) Eighty degrees, when I tell that chick please In a dog pound, feelin' the breeze. [Chorus] [Verse Three:] Later on that day My homey dr
to show and tell Sheryl don't like Beans 'cuz Beans rude She wish Beans would go back to Chicago with her dude Sayin' he don't like Dr. Wick But Dr.
hollering home Hovering and hovering and hollering home Dr. Baker phoned me again later that day Said he cried and he really sounded out of it His wife was dead and his dog
superfreaks, out here tryna get me Wanna hit me, wanna say, they done been 'round the truth In ya bed or the booth, I'm the ghetto Dr. Ruth When I do
