King T, Dr. Dre - Where's T? lyrics
Dr. Dre [Andre Romell Young] Compton, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[King T, Dr. Dre - Where's T? lyrics]
Ay, ay, ay where the fuck did Tee just go?
Where is Tee? And what's going on?
Where the fuck is Tee?
(Right here, here I come y'all)
Which way did he come? (Here I come)
Which way did he go? (Hah, over here)
(Hah, here I come) yeah, kick that shit
Set out to check my trap
Twist the mode on grind
Tryna soothe my brain with my
Money or my mind besides busting rhymes
I'm real good at doing crimes
Infected with the code of the
Street and gang signs
What's that line? Fuck a bitch
Won't make a nigga rich
I make a nigga switch from
Shot calling to a bitch
Off the wall, my niggas never heard of y'all
Can't trust 'em
All up in the mix near hustlers
Stop fronting, I came to represent the W
Hood rats, top dogs and thugs too
Thought you knew, but obviously not
You're through you need protection from
King Tee's resurrection peep the session
Loc get the full +Tee+ spoon
Swallow it fast cause I'm about to leave soon
For the moon, smoking big bubble toots
In the suburban, sipping on the 'gnac
Now we swerving past moms
Gang affiliated rap stars
In motion, tryna get paid for the potion
Top notch, the killer with the Rolex watch
With many karats
Step up on the stage and straight tear it
Into pieces, ain't a greater man except Jesus
Who can touch me
Bet a hundred thou' you couldn't bust me
The original Likwit rough grammer
Protected by the gat and bandana, who am I
Ay you know what
Looking at my Rolex, it's about that time
To crack open the Hennessey and
Roll up a dime
Line after line, I'm blowing your mind
Disrespect and get the nine to your spine
A gang of niggas try but
They never come close to
The big time player living
Like I'm supposed to
So when you see me rolling in the Testarossa
You can best believe I got
The strap in my holster mobbing son
Popping +Robbin-son+ like +Sugar Ray+
Put your gun away or get done away like fait
Got beats and stock cops
You never see the props stop steady dippin
Stripping emcees like a chop shop
Now who wanna get with the black Frank Nitti?
I ran through your city and
Left with my boots shitty
Nobody gets looser than this producer
Coordinate tracks that's live
Three or four cars to ride
Oh, coming out of LA
Regulating the West coast
East coast and between coasts, then I'm ghost
I know you're bobbing your head
Cause I can see ya but you can't see me
The D-R-E and the King Tee
Where is Tee? And what's going on?
Where the fuck is Tee?
(Right here, here I come y'all)
Which way did he come? (Here I come)
Which way did he go? (Hah, over here)
(Hah, here I come) yeah, kick that shit
Set out to check my trap
Twist the mode on grind
Tryna soothe my brain with my
Money or my mind besides busting rhymes
I'm real good at doing crimes
Infected with the code of the
Street and gang signs
What's that line? Fuck a bitch
Won't make a nigga rich
I make a nigga switch from
Shot calling to a bitch
Off the wall, my niggas never heard of y'all
Can't trust 'em
All up in the mix near hustlers
Stop fronting, I came to represent the W
Hood rats, top dogs and thugs too
Thought you knew, but obviously not
You're through you need protection from
King Tee's resurrection peep the session
Loc get the full +Tee+ spoon
Swallow it fast cause I'm about to leave soon
For the moon, smoking big bubble toots
In the suburban, sipping on the 'gnac
Now we swerving past moms
Gang affiliated rap stars
In motion, tryna get paid for the potion
Top notch, the killer with the Rolex watch
With many karats
Step up on the stage and straight tear it
Into pieces, ain't a greater man except Jesus
Who can touch me
Bet a hundred thou' you couldn't bust me
The original Likwit rough grammer
Protected by the gat and bandana, who am I
Ay you know what
Looking at my Rolex, it's about that time
To crack open the Hennessey and
Roll up a dime
Line after line, I'm blowing your mind
Disrespect and get the nine to your spine
A gang of niggas try but
They never come close to
The big time player living
Like I'm supposed to
So when you see me rolling in the Testarossa
You can best believe I got
The strap in my holster mobbing son
Popping +Robbin-son+ like +Sugar Ray+
Put your gun away or get done away like fait
Got beats and stock cops
You never see the props stop steady dippin
Stripping emcees like a chop shop
Now who wanna get with the black Frank Nitti?
I ran through your city and
Left with my boots shitty
Nobody gets looser than this producer
Coordinate tracks that's live
Three or four cars to ride
Oh, coming out of LA
Regulating the West coast
East coast and between coasts, then I'm ghost
I know you're bobbing your head
Cause I can see ya but you can't see me
The D-R-E and the King Tee