It's on

Where they at, where they at, where they at



I sold tapes every day me and Freddy B

Been famous since 1983

Give me ten dollars, and you straight get blessed

A rap all about you called the special request

Oakland, you know I go way back

To coug nuts, fal stangs, and cadillac's

When homeboys put vogues on any car

With 6 by 9's smoking burners

Everybody got addicted to my dopefiend beat

Whole town fucked around and started smoking D

Every rap I ever made was about this town

I made 7 whole albums with no James Brown

And even though I love his music, I just can't stand

The way they used it all up and didn't pay the man

And after 2 platnum albums, you call me weak

Cause I don't sell records in the East

Now what's funky, I say pussy on an old hoe

I guess y'all fools don't know

Why some good rappers can't sell no tapes

It's not the company's fault, the shit sounds fake

You wanna be in the trunk, with the booming box

While the young bitches ride on your jock

You can't do it like this homey, so just pass it

And stop kissing them white folks asses

It's like you smoked a whole damn key

You rap so fast you keep leaving the beat

I'm from the old school, I love P-Funk

But now rap music is all that they want

So when I'm in my car, I play Clinton

And when I'm on the stage I start pimping

And when I hear your shit, I push eject

Then I throw it out the window with the rejects

And when the hard core rappers go soft

I like to watch when they ass fall off

Cause ain't nothing worth kicking like a sucka MC

And any other rappers ever talk about me

I don't stop rapping, that's all they can say

And how I dogg bitches, every day

But if