Drunken Masters, Bugsy , Redman, Bastard - Urban Legends lyrics

"Hey dog, there them fools go right there!"
"yeah, they-they rollin' hard too-
They-they slangin' real good real good"
"I might have to drop 'em
Might have to drop a dime on them niggas
Know-what-I'm-sayin'? I don't like that shit
I don't like that shit"

"Throw it up throw it up, nigga
Wha-what-what? Yo, y yo, yo!"
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Drunken Mast' about to get my money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about
To get our money right



I'm comin' through in the clutch like
My name was Jerry West
Wit' a belly full of brew and on
My hip I got the Smif-n West
("What 'chu doin'?") Ballin' as I
Mash through these city streets
Still fifty niggas deep, packin' heat!
("What 'chu ridin'?")
'99, chrome kitted Escalade
("What 'chu doin'?") gettin' paid
Ready to blast you in your bald fade
("What you called?")
Urban legend, situation sticky
Fuck you niggas if you niggas ain't wit' me
("Where you goin'?")
To the bank then I'm headed to 'Lac ("Why?")
To blaze a sack wit' them
Niggas who got my back ("Who is that?")
Cheddar chasers, them B T T's
("And what they doin'?")
Makin' G's wit' they mind
On they chedda cheese ("And what you got?")
Extra clips for them playa hatin' snitches
("Why they hatin'?")
Cause Drunken Master's on the
Road to the riches ("What you gon' do?")
Rush they spot and give 'em two to the dome
("Why?")
Cause Daddy's home, about to get my grind on
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
International, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about
To get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
International, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about
To get our money right

You wanna bring the ruckus? Fuck it
Then we can if you's a G nigga
Then I'm at least a hunded grand
Damn- That's a whole lot missin'
And what's this 'bout a competiton wit'
All this bullshit you pissin'
In the ocean? Damn
Your little ass really must be smokin'
Hopin' that I won't say that much and
Hit you wit' the camal clutch
Nah, what the fuck? I'm on
Some ill shit for real
And talkin' to me like that, nigga
'll get your family killed
But, you will probably squeel and say it
Was me who pulled the trigga
And I'll have to lie and blame it
On one of your ho-ass niggas, like
They was smokin' Swishers when I
Stepped on the scene- This
One nigga looked mean and stuck me
Up for all my green
And all I seen was you bust up wit' the gun
And all I did was run to
The phone and call 9-1-1
And by the time I'm done, nigga
You be deep up in some shit
And I'll be somewhere, nigga
Deep up in your bitch
So before you pick the wrong
Fat nigga to fuck wit'
You better call your clique up
Y'all niggas is plannin' some tough shit
Some mo' rough shit
Some mo' thirty-eight snuff shit
But, I'mma bust shit like 'Back the fuck up
You dumb bitch!'
Not one clique? You better be for real
That's like bein' blindfolded in the
Middle of a mine field
Now y'all chill and we can make it pop
Urban legends, nigga
Holla at me when the album drops

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about
To get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right

Yo, yo, yo
Yo, stomp wit the big dogs! Sick dogs lurkin'
Doc Bradshaw behind ball plant
And steel curtains
Denver Bronco fan, Glock squirtin'
Brick city, steerin' wheel hurtin'
Prepare y'all fast cars for lane mergin'
Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana
Cock block into gramma got cock in Atlanta
Rockin' PPP bandanas while we
Fuck 'em on camera
It be too late to plant bait
For my clique to fall
We plant boobie traps and
Pit-falls and thick fog
When I tee, LA rock- It's yours!
Websites couldnn't find a
Force wit' Macintosh
On John Walsh- America's Most
Aimin' for spots to put more than
A tear in ya coat
I back more hoes than Coach- Thanksgivin'
Doc the forty-second street float wit'
Most Hip-Hop folks
I'm unemployed wit' courderoy gloves
Through the voice di-rectly to chest
Knock ya down like The Waterboy
Me and Meth Tical, PLURAL!
We rob everything and set on mag ZER-O!
Mothafuckas feel me- Top of the line
Feel me- Knock the Soul Train off the track
And I'm milky like titties and Similac
When I ask you 'Bring it on back'!

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E
World-wide, international, VIP
Urban legends creepin' like a
Thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right

"So don't test me and my man Drunken Master
Put one in your ass faster
And I'mma drop wit' my man brick City
Cause we all kickin' ass 'til niggas' shitty
Yeah, Young Zee and everybody run, dog
Brick City, holdin' it down
Don't like it, get you some balls
And my man Chris Webber gettin'
Smoked the fuck out, fuck Y'ALL!"

"Yo yo, check this shit out, man
It's the Dirt Dog, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Keepin' it real, man
You-know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Dirty don't give a fuck about nobody
Know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Only roll wit' REAL niggas
Know-what-I'm-sayin'?
All them faggot-ass niggas that wanna
Keep playin' that shit
Keep playin' that song?!
Let me tell you somethin'
'bout my real nigga, the Drunken Master
Niggas get busy
Niggas get busy for one cause!
Everybody else can suck
MY MOTHAfuckIN' DICK!"