Leave Me Alone lyrics

[Intro: Dr. Dre]
Leave me the f*ck alone
Yeah, uh-huh

[Verse 1: Dr. Dre]
Money, I don't talk about it, I'm that type of motherf*cker
Doc' Dre, b*tch, yeah, I f*ck with all them colors
I like it raw, baby, f*ck the world, no rubber
These snakes all in my grass, slimy b*tches undercover (Huh)
Got me in here feeling like X behind the shutters
It's Mr. f*ck You, motherf*cker, did I st-st-stutter?
I'm in the forefront, you in the storefront
f*ck first night, change your life (Ah), Daddy Warbucks
G650, why you rolling on that tour bus?
f*ck with us, any hot occasion, yeah, we going up
sh*t can get sticky when thеm 60s start rolling up
Blood still boilin' up, where you from? Throw it up
I can write an еssay 'bout all my eses
On to the next phase, you couldn't f*ck with this on your best day
Brainstorming, 'bout to rain on your f*cking parade
Strange morning if I wake up with nothing to say (Ow)
Deep pockets, call my wallet Chris Wallace (Baby, baby)
Big facts, this my attempt at being modest
I'm legendary, give a f*ck what n*ggas call it
If you ain't talking 'bout a profit, get the f*ck up out my office
You know I been that
[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Same old, same old n*gga (Mhm)
She like, "Baby, I ain't seen you in a minute" (Mhm)
I'm with my same old, same old brothers (Mhm)
Rolls-Royce and the Impalas and the Cutlass (Mhm)
Maestros from the Popeyes and the Church's (Mhm)
Now it cost a quarter milli' for these verses (Mhm)
I put the most bitty women in new purses (Mhm)
If I left the house without SIG Sauer, I'd be nervous (Mhm)

[Post-Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Jealous n*ggas envious and after me like thots be
This white tee Bottega, from the Pro Clubs at the swap meet
I been beating up these pus*y hoes since Rodney
She bag it up and dump it, baby, woah, kemosabe, ayy
Chop it, chop it, c'mon (Ayy)
Drop it down, woah, woah (Ayy)
Pick it up (Ayy), who do you love? (Ayy)
Dolla $ign and D-R-E sound like a billion bucks
Same n*gga, and I still don't give a billion f*cks

[Verse 2: Xzibit]
From the land of the palm trees, b*tch, please (b*tch, please)
You see my name on that market, you know I turn keys (sh*t, I turn keys)
Stepping on your neck and cracking the concrete (Poof)
f*ck away from my table, this where the gods eat (Gods eat)
Hit the casino with my ginger, we sippin' on gin and juice
There she goes, ready to blow, my Penelope Cruz
Pay your dues, show and prove, everything you can lose
Breaking laws, breaking jaws, n*gga, this that breaking news (Ha)
Back to business, back with the visions, f*ck your apology (Ha)
Got my cling back, Conor McGregor sh*t, the irony
Honestly, most of these n*ggas ain't speaking honestly
We where they tryna be, we turning up the economy (Ayy)
Silent circles, lot of zeros in these hidden figures
Sometimes you gotta pop out and show these n*ggas
And sometimes you gotta pop out and outgrow these n*ggas
Sunday morning, hittin' corners, holy-ghostin' b*tches
It's not what's said, it's what was done, the West is one, you know the difference
That's why I keep my guns and funds closer than a photo finish
(Leave me the f*ck alone)
Back to thicken the plot, me and the doc', watch
[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
The same old, same old n*gga (Mhm)
She like, "Baby, I ain't seen you in a minute" (Mhm)
I'm with my same old, same old brothers (Mhm)
Rolls-Royce and the Impalas and the Cutlass (Mhm)
Maestros from the Popeyes and the Church's (Mhm)
Now it cost a quarter milli' for these verses (Mhm)
I put the most bitty women in new purses (Mhm)
If I left the house without SIG Sauer, I'd be nervous (Mhm)