D.P.G - Daz Dillinger, Kurupt Young Gotti

Motherfucker too much, too much, too much

(I heard somebody bit our shit cuz!)

Where we from?

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (Say what?)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (Motherfucker, too much)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by (too much), Dogg Pound Gangstas (too much)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (Hey Daz)

I heard of a lot of dope ass rappers and I’m down with 'em

In deed we all smoke weed and clowned with 'em

Hung around with 'em, one man, with my gun in hand

There’s only one land, niggas down with me I can count on one hand (Dogg Pound)

The carma get dumb-a, the double barrel pump-a heat bump-a

And I been rocking mic’s since funky drum-a

These adventures reak havoc

Speak lavish lifesyle but crack your clavicle for the cabbage

Ryhme savage, introduction to death

Muder MC’s till ain’t shit left

In a sector, why must MC’s flip

Like gymnastics, just to get they ho ass whiped

Claiming they classic, but you don’t set no classic examples

With your fucked up beats, and your fucked up samples

Ya last verbal war, you won’t survive no more

I turned the channel, cuz nigga you ain’t live no more

I use to follow, but now you’s a legend like sleepy hollow

I shoot to kill on horse, peel your cap, swollow

There’s no tommorrow, nigga, it all ends

I been rocking a mic nigga since hip-hop began

I’m the man, now what is this that I’m told to be red on the spot

Dissed by a nigga I admire (sucka)

Oh shit, hell no this can’t be

Who’s this on the radio dissing me

D-O- double G, P-O-U-N-D, shit scorcher

Doing a video for a song that got blew outta porportion

I found he’s the deadliest force in the world

Where it’s all about glamour, fame, and fortune

As we blast and creep, so fuck you

Your homeboys and any fools trying to compete

We the elite, Dat Nigga Daz is back and he’s blasting

And anytime we meet face to face we mashing (ha-ha)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (Say what?)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (too much)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by (too much), Dogg Pound Gangstas (too much)

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas (you know what?)

So gimmie, the heat to the motherfucking Jimmies

Hit slimmies, like 3's and I be’s penny

Raw, like fifteen separate sawed-offs

To you chest, leathal techs, and pissed to get complex

If I had a million dollars, then I’d be rich

If your ho was on deck then I’d fuck yo bitch

It’s Gotti in the cut with the Don, Coleone

And Dillinger, with the hollow tip chromes (Yeah)

Catch you in traffic, leave you all flabbergasted

Stalking you all, all walking caskets

Hit the spot where the smoke is sold

Low and behold, the tightest composition composed

Can you catch it, I threw my thoughts like a quarterback

So when they in the realm wit I mangle, murder, and slaughter at

React, actions speak louder than words

But ain’t nothing more potent than vision

I seen out in through the visions, erupting

I’m spontaneous rapping, busting your melon

Then escape a lyrical felon

Accelling in and out like, as if I’m smoking the bomb (boom)

And hit 3's as my D’s shine

And keep it gangsta

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangsta Gangsta

Dogg Pound Gangstas ba-by, Dogg Pound Gangstas