[Intro: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
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Yeah..
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Death Row, baby
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(Death Row!)
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Heavy hitters
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Uh-uh
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(Yeah)
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(Why am I?)
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Crooked I
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(Yeah)
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(Who are you, though?)
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Virginia Slim, baby
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(Let 'em know somethin')
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That we ain't going nowhere
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(Nowhere, niggas)
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Second dynasty here
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(Yeah)
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Play boy
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[Crooked I]
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Tell me what's all the fuss, one hundred seventy five police
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wastin' all of the taxpayer's dollars just to holler at us?
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Mad cause the Benzes is hot, the Impalas is plush
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Nobody bothered me when I used to hop on the bus
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Now the cops follow me, the life of Dominick's rough
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They wanna throw a young don in some cuffs
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But it's... (still Death Row)
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I let 'em know, if they didn't remember
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I know, some of you suckas got hidden agendas
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But I'm, sick of pretenders
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Niggas'd rather stick their dick in a blender
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Than to go against the sickest contender
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Get your ridiculous click to surrender
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My game code is winter when it ends in December
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Scoop your chicken and Bend Hurr... tender
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You know how young niggas roll
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Send ya hoe... to your husband, walking pigeon-toed
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The West Coast is ours
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Still them other niggas old
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Over fifty million sold
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[Chorus: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
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It's still Tha Row... ugh
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(Baby, we still stackin' money up)
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And what we gon' do?
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(Lady, we still don't give a fuck)
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And how we roll y'all?
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(Baby, we still in the club beat)
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We represent, what?
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(We still represent the streets)
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It's still Tha Row
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(Baby, we still spendin' star bucks)
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And what we throwin' up?
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(Sweetheart, we still throw them balls up)
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And who we beefin' with?
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(We still beefin' with the po-po)
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And what they say we is?
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(We still ghetto)
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It's still Tha Row
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[Crooked I]
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Some of you gangsta rappers out there poppin' seventy pills
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Man, you bangin' on wax cats'll never be real (Marks!)
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This ghetto celebrity still do whatever he feel
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Look at my billboard, I took a shit on Beverly Hills
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That's 'cause it's all about Crooked (Yeah, it's all about green)
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Around y'all (We stand tall) As who? (Yao Ming) Y'all mean?
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And Crooked keep a heat compartment
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I don't speak to rappers that work for the Police Department
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Nine milli, I eat your heart with
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I seek the target, reach in garments, squeeze diesel vomits
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I don't need y'all to start me
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Ten million albums sold? Maybe if I look like Paul McCartney
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But I'm dark as dark Bacardi, dark as Marcus Garvey
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Sparks cigars that start the party... ugh!
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And we ain't lettin' suckers in
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I got a lovely deal and I own my publishing'
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[Chorus]
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[Outro 1: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
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Yeah, Red Bone... Queen, Virginia Slim, Miss Gail Gotti
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(This for my gangsters)
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Representin'... heavy hitters
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Death Row, baby
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We done slept too long
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(And for my hustlers)
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Y'all done had y'all time
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Now we back
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Ready to keep it gangster
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(And for my riders)
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Yeah... the real ones
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The ride or die ones
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Come on..
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[Crooked I]
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And I heard every single word that you say at your show
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But when we at the awards ceremony, they have to go
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S.W.A.T. Team stormin' the label, one of 'em's even pointing a A.K. at the door
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Another day at Tha Row
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They say we only out to split wigs
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What about the hospital trips givin' gifts to sick kids?
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Oh, I see, you want us ALL doing six bids
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It's okay, we still big cars and sick cribs, the Death Row way
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No way... Crooked came into this game to lose
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I'm anxious, I'ma change the rules
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I'm dangerous, I'm a gangster Langston Hughes
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I'm a mistress that you can't confuse
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I'm from Tha Row, so if I piss it'll make the news
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[Chorus]
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[Outro 2: Crooked I]
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Yeah... I know you're lovin' that
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Turn on your T.V.... open up a newspaper or somethin'
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Read all about us... them ghetto cats
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Tryin' to shove us out the game, but they can't
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There's a ghetto in every city in America
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And I'm from the Big West
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Second dynasty... Death Row is back!
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Yeah!
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All you mutts get off our nuts
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Chuuuch!
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Ah, ha...!
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Ha, ha, ha, ha.
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-----------------
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Still Tha Row
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Crooked I |