Dj Quik - Pet Semetery lyrics

(Man, Quik what they talkin 'bout?) Man, they talkin 'bout R&B music and gangsta rap is dead (WHAT?! Damn...) Ay, we need to go bury both of them muh'f**ers in the pet semetery (Take 'em to Compton and Watts, then) I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw where all the working cla** Gs' go Around the corner from Greg house, on the next block Knockin somethin down cause South Central got the best cot And the flyest b**hes live in ran-down spots That's why them n***az be Piruin and Crippin Tryin to protect that ghetto p**y they hittin And you know what you gon' get when you buy you a Quik beat And you know what's gon' happen when yo' b**hes and Quik meet And I know that she gon' kiss and tell She can't keep it quiet, can't help it when the dick is swell Have to admit it, it was good, she just gotta laugh Like a parent, I put a whoopin on her bottom half I'm a playa from the Himalayas n***az don't agree, then them n***az haters I'm just tryin to be the R&B savior with the instrumentals Or go down like JFK in the Continental The most underrated, so motherf**in hate it Anything I do for music's never celebrated Y'all k**in the game like pesticide ...But DJ Quik is unpasteurized My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless Your hood wouldn't be eating, I'm the reason for all this Y'all tryin to say I got my jaw broke in Compton What kind of fake gangsta movies y'all be watchin? That's some cowboy sh**, this some now boy sh** With them rounds at your car, that's as loud as it's gon' get Handle my lightweight, get 'em embalmed in the crates So don't fu*k with the great, you're much safer on skates ...A thin ice with lead plates I'm bout to reboot, g'on and recruit Come thru and shoot, make 'em scatter like SHOO! So all that don't like me, you can s** a dick or somethin Turn over on your stomach. take a dil*o 'til you vomit I know you n***az crampin, I know the real you You keep f**in with me, and I'm gon' k** you Now what they wanna go cancel Arsenio Hall for? Now he got no place to kick it, that's uncalled for I'm a bad motherf**er cause my glock says so But my wallet says Gucci, I'm a fly k**a yo Jewels on yo' a**, pullin tools on yo' a** Recite a scripture 'fore I put these B-B-BURRS in yo' a** I'ma just let it, collect it with a bag Put that in perspective, it's about a half O-Z of the OG Gettin low key, rollin' more trees in a hatchback chillin like it's '79 My lyrics so wicked, n***a, go and rewind So, one more time, I'm from the world's most dangerous city Back on the scene with no cracks on my screen (yep) I'm like an addict gettin back on that thing If R&B is dead - n***a, rest in peace But I'm still gon' write the sh** that makes the stress release Preach