Drumma Boy - House Shoes lyrics

[Intro] Ay Snoop Dogg Ay ay ay Snoop Dogg~! We the people, wanna know What's it like to be a boss mayne? I mean, what's it really like to walk in yo' shoes mayne? [Snoop Dogg] (Yo!) This ain't no cake walk n***a Your cuz keep it pimpin man I made y'all n***as (Yo!) The game played you n***as I'm 19 in, kush and a Swisher (Yo!) Cash by the bundles and bundles at wholesale No bail the feds tryin to give me mo' jail But I'm a superstar, ridin in my super car Ponytail swangin, g**nin, lookin super hard (Yo!) I wake up every day and blow a zip Count grams, contraband on my HIP Outstanding with my pimp hand, handing me my GRIP Outlandish on my tip like n***a this Crip (Yo!) The bouelvard star, red carpet walker So +Famous+, feelin like +Amos+ f** the police, one time cain't contain us I'm rich as a motherf**er ain't I? Ain't I? (Yo!) I'm the boss and you know dat Send two I send 'bout fo' back, dead (Yo!) Don't let the names do you wrong I'm so involved with the heat I need meds (Yo!) My whole life is like a video I make good music like really doe Standin on my own two, lookin at you s**ers, what'chu gon' do? {*shhhhhh*} Ballin ain't a thing that's what I'm gon' do (Yo!) Back at 'em, the 'llac with a chandelier With a +Foxy+ b**h, I call her Pam Grier (Yo!) This my part of town, you can't stand here You say you gangster? The Runners gettin ran here Chop 'em up, sit 'em down, please don't disturb the Dogg Ain't worth the call, sh** I ain't even heard of y'all The nerve of y'all, to face what you cain't see I don't give a f** who went down, she he ain't me (Yo!) Khakis creased, All Stars, blue barette So much money on him sh** the city tried to sue the set Boss Dogg, here I go, hoggin in my own lane In 1988, I was cookin up the whole thang (Yo!) And now I'm involved with slangin raps Million dollar deals, movies and countin stacks The critics try to fight the facts But I'm loved everywhere, go and fight that (Yo!) I think they love it when I'm trippin That pop sh** make it hard to listen (Yo!) But when it sounds like this It make a n***a wanna pop his clip in, now listen (Yo!) Turn that beat up, that ba** got 'em feelin froggy Quit your talk, I got homies bigger than John Coffey (Yo!) And they'll tear this whole place up Got gangsters puttin on makeup, ya dig? (Yo!) The West coast king is on his sh** again They in panic like "How do we get rid of him?" The answer is you cain't And even if you could, then motherf**er you ain't Beitch!