Pet Semetary lyrics

[Dude] Man Quik, what they talkin' 'bout?
[Dj Quik] Man they talkin' 'bout R&B music and Gangsta Rap is dead
[Dude] What!? Damn
[Dj Quik] Aye, we need to go bury both of them muthaf*ckaz in the pet semetary
[Dude] Take them to Compton and Watts then

[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw
Where all the working class G's go
Around the corner from Greg house
On the next block
Knocking something down
'Cause South Central got the best c*ck
And the flyest b*tches live in ran down spots
That's why them n*ggas be Piruin' and Crippin'
Tryin' to protect that ghetto pus*y they hittin'
And you know what you gon' get when you buy you a Quik beat
And you know what's gon' happen your b*tches and Quik meet
And I know that she gon' kiss and tell
She can't keep it quiet, can't help it when the di*k is swell
Have to admit it, it's just good, she's gotta laugh
Like a parent, I put a whoopin' on her bottom half
I'm a player from the Himalayas
n*ggas don't agree, then them n*ggas' haters
I'm just tryin' to be the R&B savior with the instrumental
Or go down like JFK in a Continental
The most underrated, so mothaf*ckin' hated
Anything I do for music's never celebrated
Y'all killin' the game like pesticides
But DJ Quik is unpasteurized
My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless
Your hood wouldn't be eatin', I'm the reason for all this
Y'all tryin' say I got my jaw broke in Compton
What kind of fake gangsta movies y'all be watchin'?
That's some cowboy sh*t, this some now boy sh*t
When them rounds hit your car, that's as loud as it's gon' get
Handle my lightweight, get him embalmed in a crate
So don't f*ck with the great, you're much safer on skates
On thin ice with lead plates
I'm 'bout to reboot, go on and recruit
Come through and shoot, make 'em scatter like shoop
So all that don't like me, you can suck a di*k or somethin'
Turn over on your stomach, take a dildo 'til you vomit
I know you n*ggas crampin', I know the real you
You keep f*ckin' with me, and I'm gon' kill you
[Verse 2: DJ Quik]
Now what they want to go and cancel Arsenio Hall for?
Now we got no place to kick it, that's so uncalled for
I'm a bad motherf*cker, 'cause my Glock says so
But my wallet says Gucci, I'm a fly killer, yo
Jewels on your ass, pullin' tools on your ass
Recite a scripture before I put these brrrrs in your ass
I'm a gent, stepped in complected with a bag
Put that in perspective, it's about a half OZ of the OG
Gettin' low key
Rollin' more trees in a hatchback
Chillin' like it's '79
My lyrics so wicked, n*gga, go and rewind
So, one more time, I'm from the world's most dangerous city
Back on the scene with no cracks on my screen
I'm like an addict gettin' back on that thing
If R&B is dead, n*gga, Rest In Peace
But I'm still gon' write the sh*t that makes some stress release
Preach