Your Old Droog - DYLAN! lyrics

[Verse 1: Your Old Droog] And I ain't even met Wyclef yet Knew I was poppin' when I got my first d**h threat Told son to come see me, hit him with the address Never worry 'bout no bad press, talk about me Let 'em pile on, cause now they got a file on The kid who played fingerstyle with strings made of nylon Coming with hot lines for you to get your dial on Always hear Your Old Droog spittin' that Dylan Dylan, Dylan, where the hell is Dylan? Probably hidin' out on W. 8th and Highlawn Slingin' deals to a section 8 Adrienne Bailon Sneakin' out at night and gettin' busy with the Krylon Lookin' for someone to wild on While on d**, my white b**h keeps gats in her Uggs Poorly planned attacks fueled by Xanax Chopped off someone's hands with an axe Facts, now I'm only concerned with green Stay printin' contracts out of Kinko's machines The competition are fiends All they do is drink codeine and wear JNCO jeans I'm Stone Cold, they Malenko, Dean Deficient in zinc and protein, can't see me Seen Y.O.D., spotted like a coyote With yo' wife's p**y juices on my goatee [?] wasn't even noon And she had baggies in her poon Who is she? She's a valley girl Oh No is like, "I'm throwin' you the alley, curl!" Then I gammed, it's nothin' to get son to slam it My finishes at the rim run the gamut Like when's he gonna stop, goddammit Writin' is like Shakespeare's It shakes peers, this my Hamlet