Bugsy - Urban Legends lyrics

[Sample from 'Belly'] "Hey dog, there them fools go right there!" "Yeah, they-they rollin' hard too- They-they slangin' real good Real good" "I might have to drop 'em Might have to drop a dime on them n***as Know-what-I'm-sayin'? I don't like that sh** I don't like that sh**" [Drunken Master] "Throw it up Throw it up, n***a Wha-what-what? Yo, y-yo, yo!" Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Drunken Mast' about to get my money right Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and my n***a Bugs about to get our money right I'm comin' through in the clutch like my name was Jerry West Wit' a belly full of brew and on my hip I got the Smif-n-West ("What 'chu doin'?") Ballin' as I mash through these city streets Still fifty n***as deep, packin' heat! ("What 'chu ridin'?") '99, chrome kitted Escalade ("What 'chu doin'?") Gettin' paid, ready to blast you in your bald fade ("What you called?") Urban legend, situation sticky f** you n***as if you n***as ain't wit' me ("Where you goin'?") To the bank then I'm headed to 'Lac ("Why?") To blaze a sack wit' them n***as who got my back ("Who is that?") Cheddar chasers, them B-T-T's ("And what they doin'?") Makin' G's wit' they mind on they chedda cheese ("And what you got?") Extra clips for them playa hatin' snitches ("Why they hatin'?") Cause Drunken Master's on the road to the riches ("What you gon' do?") Rush they spot and give 'em two to the dome ("Why?") Cause Daddy's home, about to get my grind on Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E International, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and my n***a Bugs about to get our money right Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E International, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and my n***a Bugs about to get our money right [Bugsy] You wanna bring the ruckus? f** it, then we can If you's a G n***a, then I'm at least a hunded grand Damn- That's a whole lot missin' And what's this 'bout a competiton wit' all this bullsh** you pissin' In the ocean? Damn, your little a** really must be smokin' Hopin' that I won't say that much and hit you wit' the camal clutch Nah, what the f**? I'm on some ill sh** for real And talkin' to me like that, n***a, 'll get your family k**ed But you will probably squeel and say it was me who pulled the trigga And I'll have to lie and blame it on one of your ho-a** n***as, like They was smokin' Swishers when I stepped on the scene- This One n***a looked mean and stuck me up for all my green And all I seen was you bust up wit' the gun And all I did was run to the phone and call 9-1-1 And by the time I'm done, n***a, you be deep up in some sh** And I'll be somewhere, n***a, deep up in your b**h So before you pick the wrong fat n***a to f** wit' You better call your clique up Y'all n***as is plannin' some tough sh** Some mo' rough sh**, some mo' thirty-eight snuff sh** But I'mma bust sh** like 'Back the f** up, you dumb b**h!' Not one clique? You better be for real That's like bein' blindfolded in the middle of a mine field Now y'all chill and we can make it pop Urban legends, n***a, holla at me when the album drops [Drunken Master] Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and my n***a Bugs about to get our money right Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right [Redman] Yo, yo, yo Yo, stomp wit the big dogs! Sick dogs lurkin' Doc Bradshaw behind ball plant and steel curtains Denver Bronco fan, Glock squirtin' Brick city, steerin' wheel hurtin' Prepare y'all fast cars for lane mergin' Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana, co*k block into gramma Got co*k in Atlanta Rockin' P.P.P. Bandanas while we f** 'em on camera It be too late to plant bait for my clique to fall We plant b**bie-traps and pit-falls and thick fog When I tee, L.A. rock- It's yours! Websites couldnn't find a force wit' Macintosh On John Walsh- America's Most Aimin' for spots to put more than a tear in ya coat I back more hoes than Coach- Thanksgivin', Doc The forty-second street float wit' most hip-hop folks I'm unemployed wit' courderoy gloves Through the voice di-rectly to chest, knock ya down like The Waterboy Me and Meth-Tical, PLURAL! We rob everything and set on mag ZER-O! Mothaf**as feel me- Top of the line Feel me- Knock the Soul Train off the track And I'm milky like titties and Similac When I ask you 'Bring it on back'! [Drunken Master] Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E World-wide, international, V.I.P Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right [Redman] "So don't test me and my man Drunken Master Put one in your a** faster And I'mma drop wit' my man Brick City, cause we all kickin' a** 'til n***as' sh**ty Yeah, Young Zee and everybody run, dog Brick City, holdin' it down Don't like it, get you some balls And my man Chris Webber gettin' smoked the f** out, fu*k Y'ALL!" [Music stops to Ol' Dirty ba*tard talking on a phone] "Yo. Yo, check this sh** out, man It's the Dirt Dog, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'? Keepin' it real, man, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'? Dirty don't give a f** about nobody, know-what-I'm-sayin'? Only roll wit' REAL n***as, know-what-I'm-sayin'? All them f*ggot-a** n***as that wanna keep playin' that sh** Keep playin' that song?! Let me tell you somethin' 'bout my real n***a, the Drunken Master n***as get busy n***as get busy for one cause! EVERYBODY ELSE CAN su*k MY MOTHAfu*kIN' DICK!"