Nothin' But The Cavi Hit

Lyrics

Blaze up
 Oh yeah
 World wide, west side
 Yo
 Mack 10 with Tha Dogg Pound
 Yeah, and the hits don't stop(sucka)
 (Nuttin but a cavi)
 Hey, Daz
 Check this out, dog
 Now when I come to ya'll hood, ya'll watch my back
 And when ya come to Inglewood I'm a front you a sack
 So we can grind and get away with the cash like a caper
 Cause it ain't about the set-trip, it's all about the paper
 Made the poverty cease, on the rise like yeast
 A parvay lex piece, and I keep my khaki's creased
 Mack 10 is the lick, and ya know what my set be
 Connect gang from the west, nigga, where the best be
 It ain't no questions asked
 You down to blast for me?
 Down to ride for me?
 Down to die for me?
 I come through for these sucka-ass niggas who rep
 Come creepin up on shorty slowly, show him death
 Pull out the Mack 90 automatic for static
 Blast a coupla niggas, leave em all panicked
 We swirve and hit the curb, smoke some herb
 We came up too much, and too tough, and too grub
 We in the war zone
 Where the war's on
 Where ya gun, nigga?
 Show em where you're from, nigga
 Ridin-ass young nigga
 Arsenel equipped, hot enough to scorch
 With the double fours on the hip rollin with the force
 He's out to catch a body
 Talking, but I thought this was a gangsta party
 Now he's walking around smarter
 Now he's about to see, talking about who's jumpin
 I'm about to get the pump to pumpin and start dumpin on somethin
 Fuck you over there
 Party over here
 And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
 Cause niggas like us do platnium every year
 And if I ruled this sphere
 Your shit'd disappear
 Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
 And wave em all around like ya just don't care
 We're ridin dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
 Mack 10 and the Pound, dog, cookin nothin but the cavi
 I'm servin niggas like a host with the pound so take a toast
 Dog, this west coast and our shit bump the most
 Cause vine to vine I swing through the woods of Ingle
 And everything I make, fuck around and be a single
 From the who bangin hit, to the yes, yes, ya'lls
 Now all down my halls, got plaques on my walls
 We might slow the roll, sit back and still kick it
 But the shit don't stop till we hit a meal ticked
 I'll be goddamned
 I'm in it for a meal ticket
 And the goal's succesful
 I don't know who to prove a show
 Usual swirve a corner and hit a block back-to-back
 Ya'll don't know us like that
 Where the gang-banger's hang at
 They Say "Daz, are you a rider?"
 I reply "Boy, hell yeah, I'm a rider!"
 From the east side of Long Beach to the west side of Inglewood
 On a cash mission bailin hood to hood
 Once upon a time in the early stages of my life, sacrifice
 I feel like loose-shakin niggas like dice
 Forever in the day
 Say what you say
 On the mic I display, Philly to L.A.
 I've been all over from Crenshaw and Impearl
 To 108th, I'm sure Mack got my back
 It's all about mashing, cashin heat in the stash
 When you're in the neigborhood of assassins
 What you say?
 Fuck you over there
 Party over here
 And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
 Cause niggas like us do platnium every year
 And if I ruled this sphere
 Your shit'd disappear
 Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
 And wave em all around like ya just don't care
 We're ridin dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
 Mack 10 and the Pound, dog, cookin nothin but the cavi
 What do you consider fun? (Pass the bomb, pass the bomb)
 All day night, and all night long (Pass the bomb, pass the bomb)
 When you wake up in the morining
 And you start to yawn (Pass the bomb, pass the bomb)
 All day night, and all night long C'mon, C'mon (Pass the bomb, pass the bomb)
 Yeah, dub S.C.G.
 D.P.G.C.
 Ha ha ha
 Take a picture, trick
 Take a picture, trick
 Take a picture, trick
 It might make ya rich
 Wesssydeee
 Biatch
 Death Row
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:00
Key
1
Tempo
98 BPM

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