Hehe, yeah. What up?
This is Dr. Dre.
The party's goin' on.
Thank God it's Friday...
Keep their heads ringin'...
Keep their heads ringin'...
Ah, yeah...
Hey, you, sittin' over there.
Say what?
You better get up out of yo chair.
That's right.
And work your body down...
Yeah.
No time to funk around.
'Cause we gon'...
...Funk you right on up.
So get up, get a move on, and get your groove on.
It's the D - R - E, the spectacular.
In a party I go for ya neck, so call me Blackula.
As I drain a niggas jugular vein,
And maintain to leave bloodstains,
So don't complain.
Just chill, listen to the beats I spill.
Keepin' it real enables me to make another mill.
Still niggas run up and try to kill at will.
But get popped like a pimple, so call me clearasil.
I wipe niggas off the face of the earth,
Since birth.
I've been a bad nigga, now let me tell you what I'm worth.
More than a stealth bomber.
I cause drama.
The enforcer.
Music flows like a flying saucer,
Or a 747 jet. Never forget
I'm that nigga that keeps the hoes' panties wet.
The mic get smoked, once you hear the beat kick,
With grooves so funky they come with a speed stick.
So check the flavor that I'm bringin'.
The muthaphukkin' D - R - E,
I keep their muthaphukkin' heads ringin'...
Uh, yeah. Keep their heads ringin'...
1, 2 for the crew.
3, 4 for the dough.
5 for the ho.
6, 7, 8 for Death Row.
Mad niggas 'bout to feel the full effect of intellect,
So I can collect respect.
Plus a check.
Now I'm off in to, get in to my mental,
Will take care of this business I need to attend to.
'Cause my rent's due.
And this rap shit's my mealticket,
So you goddamn right I'mma kick it, or get evicted.
I bring terror like Stephen King.
A black Casanova, runnin' niggas over like Christine,
When I rock the spot with the flavor I got.
I get plenty of ass so call me an asstronaut,
As I blast past another nigga's ass,
That thought he was strong, but I smoke 'em like grass,
Just like Cheech and Chung. When I flow niggas know it's time to take a hike.
'Cause I grab the mic and flip my tongue like a dyke.
I got rhymes to keep you enchanted.
Produce a smokescreen with the funky green to keep ya eyes slanted.
So check the flavor that I'm bringin'.
The muthaphukkin' D - R - E,
I'll keep their muthaphukkin' heads ringin'...
Yeah, keep their heads ringin'...
Haha, yeah. Come on...
If you want to get on down
Uh, yeah...
You gotta get on down.
Come on.
Haha
Just get on down.
It's like that.
Debonnaire with flair,
I scare, wear and tear without a care.
Runnin' shit as if I was a mayor.
But I ain't no politician, no competition,
Sendin' all opposition to see a mortician.
I'm upfront, never in a back-drop,
Step on stage and get faded just like a flat top.
Your rhyme sounds like you bought 'em in "Stop-and-Go".
Dre came to wax you so just call me "Mop-and-Glow".
Many try to, but just can't rock wit'.
I'm 6'1, 225 of pure chocolate.
Your chances of jackin' me are slmi, G.
'Cause I rock them summer til Santa comes down the chimney.
Hohoho, it's so as I continue to flow.
'Cause, yo, I'm just a fly Negro.
So check the flavor that I'm bringin'.
The muthaphukkin' D - R - E,
I keep their muthaphukkin' heads ringin'...
Yeah, uh. I keep their muthaphukkin' heads ringin'...
Yeah, uh. I keep their heads ringin'...
Get it? x3
I keep their heads ringin'...
Haha, yeah. Uh, come on.
Yeah, Death Row back up in that ass for the 199 to the nickel.
So all ya muthaphukkers out there tryin' to get with this don't even try.
You couldn't see us through binoculars.
Start jiggelin'... Haha...
Yeah, uh. I know ya bobbin' ya head.
'Cause I can see you.
Uh, I know ya bobbin' ya head.
'Cause I can see you.
You can't see me. Haha...
Yeah...
Death Row, let me know you in the house!
BIYITCH!
Haha...
Yeah, that's right.
We out...
Writer(s): Andre Young, Sylvia (usa) Robinson, Cheryl Cook, Angela Brown, E. Anderson) J-flexx (james, Sam Sneed, Gwendolyn Chisolm
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com