Letra de Pimp Slapp’d (Suge Knight Diss) - Snoop Dogg

W-Balls, it's your main man DJ E-Z Dick

About to unleash another one of those platinum plus hits

And the word is on the streets, and the word is the streets

And we gon' go to a live remote and check in with my main man, Mr. Doggy Dogg

A day in the life, of a Rollin' 20 Crip

I'm just a stubborn type of fella with a head like a brick

Now just because I sip Moet, they say that I'm hopeless

But I don't give a fuck, so blame it on the Loc'ness (Uh-huh)

Now this is how we do it when we checking the grip

Snoop Dogg is in this bitch, so don't even trip

I bust a funky composition that's as smooth as a prism

So check it while I kick off in this funky-ass rhythm

It's six dub, the phone is ringing off the deck

And it's some homies talking about I disrespected they set

Aww nah, Dogg ain't diss y'all

I got a couple Relatives up off of Crenshaw

This is about me and Simon, not me and y'all

I got love for a bunch of real B-Dogs

Like K-Dub, Top Kat, B-Real, E-Rock, Bool-Aid, Face

And the homie Heron, rest in peace

Big Jay from Campanella Park

He used to blaze with his nephew after dark

On and on, rocking big Neckbone

Mausberg, I had to put you on my song

It's so real, I had to show some love

Now back to this scrub, it ain't about Crip or Blood

It's about you bein' jealous of what I does

'Cause I does it the most, the king of the coast

In the paint playin' post - I back you down

Like Shaq-Daddy, and bust on ya out the new Caddy

And skirt up Wilshire Boulevard

I'm not Xzibit, you can't pull my hoe card (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

I fucked all your groupies

When you was doing time in Camp Snoopy

With the fags and snitches (uh-huh), no killers just bitches

And you was payin' niggas off with all my riches

You so hardco', why you ain't go to level fo'?

Oh, I know (Bitch!)

But I walk the mainline every time I go down

You can check my G Files, I do it L.B.C. style (Crip!)

I got the word on you, Simon

You need to just start rhymin'

'Cause you the biggest star on your label

And them other niggas just crumbs off my table

You're not able, to compete with the heat that I drop

And I still ain't been paid, for "1-8-7 on a Cop"

I started yo' shit and I will end yo' shit

If you keep talkin shit, on Crip! (Crip!)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Jealous-ass nigga)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Don't get pimp slapped)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Jealous-ass nigga)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Don't get pimp slapped)

Money, get it

Paper, I got it

I got to do it (Get it, get it)

Heaters, I keep 'em

Bitches, I got 'em

Run up, ya get done up, I stay one up

Money, I get it

Paper, I got it (I got it)

Huh, I got to do it

Heaters, I keep 'em

Bitches, I got 'em

Run up, ya get done up, I stay one up

If I shoot you, I'll be brainless, and you'll be famous

And I'll be spending money out the anus

Your only gain is to try to get me to fall down to your level

Man, you worse than them devils

A lotta niggas should've said it, fuck 'em

But I'ma say it for 'em, stop it, pop it, rewind and play it for 'em

This nigga's a bitch like his wife

Suge Knight's a bitch, and that's on my life (Haha)

And I'ma let the whole world see

'Cause you fucked up the industry, and that's on me

We can go head up, nigga, set it up

Or we can do the other thing, I love to wet it up

Your rappers and artists, tell 'em, shut it up

'Cause I'll fuck every last one of 'em up, especially Kurupt (Shhhhhhh)

See that's my lil' homeboy, so he know what's up (What's up)

He better keep it Crippin', and slip his clip in

'Cause these niggas trippin', this is official business

Do the same way, leave no witnesses

This is that unexpected, misdirected

Sprayed, covered and protected

Strip you butt naked, chicky-check-check-it (Check-check-it)

It's all to the good again

You can catch Snoopy D.O. double in the hood again (Eastside Rollin'!)

Spinning that real times, spitting that real shit

To make the whole world feel it (Feel it, feel it)

So put the bacon in the skillet (haha), and try to peel it

'Cause Doggystyle Records is the realest, nigga

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Jealous-ass nigga)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Don't get pimp slapped)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Jealous-ass nigga)

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (Don't get pimp slapped)

Money, get it

Paper, I got it

(I got to do it)

Heaters, I keep 'em

Bitches, I got 'em

Money, I get it

Paper, I got it

Jealous-ass nigga

(Don't get pimp slapped)

Hm hm hm hm

Ay Snoop, what's up, dog?

Ay, this Big Jim Bob from Campanella Park, homie

Uhhh, I know I ain't seen you in a while, boy

I ain't seen you since 'bout, uhhh, shitttt

See about '92, '93 or some old shit like that, man, but uhhh

This Jacob big brother, homie

Uhh, got much love for you, boy, just heard the little cut you put out, uhhh, the other day

You know, uhh, I got much love for you, boy

And like you said, man, expose that big old, fake-ass nigga Simon, man

That nigga ain't never been from the streets, man

I seen, I met that nigga in '90, man, that nigga popped up, I don't know where that nigga came from

But anyway, man, this Jim Bob from Campanella Park, homie

Uhh, Mausberg, uhh, big homeboy and Jay big brother

So, uhhh, you know I'll holla at you later out there on the streets, man

I see you man, keep your head up, boy

And niggas over there in the neighborhood got your back, dog

Alright

One love, big homie

Keep it straight

End of message

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