DJ Quik - Pet Semetary lyrics

[DJ Quik - Pet Semetary lyrics]

Man Quik, what they talkin' 'bout?

I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw
Where all the working class G's go
Around the corner from Greg house
On the next block knocking something down
'Cause South Central got the best cock
And the flyest bitches live in ran down spots
That's why them niggas be
Piruin' and Crippin'
Tryin' to protect that ghetto
Pussy they hittin'
And you know what you gon' get when
You buy you a Quik beat
And you know what's gon' happen
Your bitches 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's just good
She's gotta laugh like a parent


I put a whoopin' on her bottom half
I'm a player from the Himalayas
Niggas don't agree, then them niggas' haters
I'm just tryin' to be the
R&B savior with the instrumental
Or go down like JFK in a Continental
The most underrated, so mothafuckin' hated
Anything I do for music's never celebrated
Y'all killin' the game like pesticides
But DJ Quik is unpasteurized
My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless
Your hood wouldn't be eatin'
I'm the reason for all this
Y'all tryin' say I got my
Jaw broke in Compton
What kind of fake gangsta
Movies y'all be watchin'?
That's some cowboy shit
This some now boy shit
When them rounds hit your car
That's as loud as it's gon' get
Handle my lightweight
Get him embalmed in a crate
So don't fuck with the great
You're much safer on skates
On thin ice with lead plates
I'm 'bout to reboot, go on and recruit
Come through and shoot
Make 'em scatter like shoop
So all that don't like me
You can suck a dick or somethin'
Turn over on your stomach
Take a dildo 'til you vomit
I know you niggas crampin'
I know the real you
You keep fuckin' with me
And I'm gon' kill you

Now what they want to go
And cancel Arsenio Hall for?
Now we got no place to kick it
That's so uncalled for
I'm a bad motherfucker
'cause my Glock says so
But my wallet says Gucci, I'm a fly killer
Yo
Jewels on your ass, pullin' tools on your ass
Recite a scripture before I put
These brrrrs in your ass
I'm a gent, stepped in complected with a bag
Put that in perspective
It's about a half OZ of the OG
Gettin' low key
Rollin' more trees in a hatchback
Chillin' like it's '79
My lyrics so wicked, nigga, 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
I'm like an addict gettin' back on that thing
If R&B is dead, nigga, Rest In Peace
But, I'm still gon' write the shit
That makes some stress release preach

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