Robert Reyes - d**h To My Enemies lyrics

[Produced by Dr. Dre & Mark Batson] [Intro] Dre, n***as think we're bullsh**ting [Hook] n***a try me, son, he best have the heat on him Whip him outta his clothes, get to mopping the street with him Well, I put your body in a bag, front on me, I'm on ya a** I bring money to my n***as that bring d**h to my enemies I bring money to my n***as that bring d**h to my enemies [Verse 1] n***a front on me, the goons and goblins come out Bushmaster hundred shot, drums'll run out They dumb out, you heard of me, they call me big homie Me I make the register ring, I'm the cash cow They make the hammers ring, they on ya a** now Hair trigger, stare n***a, yeah, n***as'll flip Six shot semi a**ault, let it off at your will Here I is, where the money is, I still get biz If D's know about the beef, you gon' still get did It be your tombstone and your f**ing grave they dig Have that a** in the precinct trying to talk to the pigs I'm like Damien, n***a, when I start getting loose on ya Closest thing to Lucifer, you think you got a noose on ya I make it hard to breathe I come with your hustle, air it out, make it hard to eat Have you lookin' both ways like you crossing the street [Hook] [Verse 2] Yeah, n***as send me the wrong message, we gon' f**ing k** the messenger Your whole clique, hollowtips'll tear up the best of ya This ain't the "Carter" n***a, this is Sparta It's harder, I die and be a martyr, respect me like your father Let off a clip or let a case off I have your p**y a** running like a race horse Follow orders now, Yay' shoot his face off You can have one, blast one, it's mad fun See how when you listen to me all of the cash gone I was born with the tech, it's a birth defect I was conceived in the bins, ended up in a Benz This is what happens when have-not's turn into Sasquatch Let the gat pop, boogie down on the back blocks It's horrific, nah, it's terrific I got it if you sniff it, go 'head n***a twist it Get lifted, goddamn I'm gifted [Hook] [Verse 3] Yeah, I tell 'em ride on 'em then they ride on 'em Get the line on 'em and squeeze the .9 on 'em Headshot, .40-Glock blow his mind on him If they hating on the jux leave the shines on 'em Now you can watch me, n***a, like the police watch me I move proper, go ahead catch a shell trying to stop me That 430 Spider, carbon fibre And my dog is like Al Qaeda, natural fighter Rapid fire, you're sweet like apple cider The Mack'll fire, mask like Michael Myers It's off the wire when I get on my bullsh** No smiles, no laughs, you gets no pa** You can explain to my n***as while they whoop yo' a** My hands itch when the money comes, it's hard to explain it Last time I itched like this, a truckload came in Get money, get bread, that's what I do kid [Hook]