Deeez Nuuuts

(album: The Chronic - 1992)

Let me call this old bitch, see what this bitch doing
Call this bitch, raggedy-ass, shit, man
Hello?
What's up?
Nothing, what you doing?
Nothing, just kicking it
Are y'all done?
Nah, what you gon' do today?
Um, pick up my clothes from the cleaners, I think I'll go get my nails done
Serious?
Why? What's up?
Ay, did, did what's-your-name done get at you yesterday?
Who?
Deez nuts!
Aw, shut up, nigga

"I wanna ask you one question
If I had some nuts, hanging on the wall, what would I have honey?"
I said, "Darling, you'd have some walnuts"
She said, "Well, daddy, if I had some nuts on my chest, would those be chestnuts?" I said, "Hell yeah"
She said, "Well daddy if I had nuts under my chin would those be chin-nuts?"
I said, "Hell no, bitch, you'd have a dick in your mouth!"

Chicky-check, microphone check one
Chicky-check, microphone check two
Chicky-check, microphone check three
Check game from the notorious Compton G

Back with some shit that gots to bump
As you pull up in the park, you pops your trunk
Just to floss it like a motherfucker, clowning and shit
Got your Dana's on your hooptie and your fly-ass bitch
Throw off, go off, show off, I take that ho
If she proper, I'ma pop her, the ho hopper
Is back on track
With big money, big nuts and a big fat chronic sack

So Daz, step up on they ass
And give these motherfuckers a blast from the past

Diggidy Daz out of the cut with some shit that I wrote
With my nigga D-R-E, so you know I must be dope
But, uh, rat-tat-tat-tat that ass
Starting static with Dre, make way for the AK
That I bring as I slang like cavi
Not from Kris Kross but they call me Mac Daddy
Had he not known about the city I'm from
(Long Beach, tic-tac, grab your gat, watch your back)
Here I come, stomping in my khaki suit
B.G. from the hood, kinfolk Eastwood
God damn, I ripped up, flipped up, and skipped up
On top of things as they swing towards my ding-a-ling

But could you raise up off his nuts?
'Cause Dr. Drizzae's about to rizzip shit up

Chicky-check, microphone check one
Chicky-check, microphone check two
Chicky-check, microphone check three
You're tuned to the sounds of the D-R-E

Now check me out, it's back to the old school
Where the niggas get they scrap on, don't nobody cap on
Slap on some D-R-E
Or some funky-ass shit by the D-O-double-G-Y D-O-double-G
Real Gs who drop kis
Protect these N-U-T's, so nigga please
Peep out my manuscript
You'll see that it's a must I drop gangster shit (Bitch)
So recognize game from the gangster
Things will remain the same until I change 'em

It's real easy to see
So you can check sounds from Nate D-O-double-G

I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street
I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street
I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street
I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street
I heard you wanna fuck with Dre
You picked the wrong motherfucking day
Here we go, toe-to-toe, blow-for-blow
Let me know if you think you can fade Death Row
I heard you wanna fuck with Dre
You picked the wrong motherfucking day
Here we go, toe-to-toe, blow-for-blow
Let me know if you think you can fade Death Row
I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street
I can't be faded
I'm a nigga from the motherfucking street