Real Mug Fuggin Jets lyrics

by

Dr. Dre


You know I got love for the West Coast
Yeah
Yeah
n*gga
Cannon, Cannon
Cannon
Some concerns b*tch
Act like you know
Uh
I'm still
Sixteen switchin'
Still back bumper scraping
Patty-caking, frame to the pavement
They been looking for me, I bene on MTV lately
Chasing paper, macking to the latest
Smoking out vapor, riders
Laser red eyes, sun out where I'm driving
Dropping my visor
With my bad b*tch, she a rider
Weed in the grinder, mind on a million
Patio on top of the building
Owning this sh*t, not renting
That's the sh*t that I'm spitting
I could pimp an alley-oop (?) I'm sitting
At the Hornet's game, and I'm eying them groupie b*tches
You dealing with some real mothf*cking Gs
Say I ain't the best, we'll mother f*cking see
(Hold on mama)
Jets in this b*tch, twist the mother f*cking trees
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