Mr.Doctor ft. Brotha Lynch Hung and Foe Loco - 40oz and chronic dice

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(Hook) (Doc) pm for lockerz invite

Finally the sun went down in the hood, and I was budded.

Dice game and fat sacks a indo

Service with high times and made it

Rainy days blew me away, so I drank the 4 everyday.

Matter fact it was a murder present.

One-eight-six point duece that was ridin wit one-eighty-seven.

(40 ounces and chronice dice)

Yeah, I stay high muthafucka!



(Lynch)

On my briefcase is some crumbled weed.

Buckshot shells from a dead body.

Got a whole bunch a 40's and a couple a hoes.

A '95 Fifty sittin on Trues and Vogues.

Plus I had a nine in my glove compartment.

'Cause everywhere I go niggas love to start shit.

Five pound chronic dice, in my mits.

Fifteen teflons, in my clip.

Heard about a lot a sick shit in the block, so,

I stay locc to the brain and remain incognito.

With my twenty sack a the bomb.

Money back guarantee, if you hit that shit and don't wanna kill yo' mom.

Got the clip, glock, Chevy Impala to dump stop the glock, no you can't the Doc from the gangbang nigga.

So up goes yo' trigga.

Stayin high off the cess, I'm in

And my nigga say.



(Hook)



(Foe Loco)

So fuck ya. Rippin off ya forehead and down yo' cheeks.

You in the Blue Doc shape 'cause I drop seven by you feet.

And ya broke, my pockets are no for load all day.

'Cause that eastside slangs 'em in effective ways.

And amazing thang,

Is the gangbang'll come up off a crap game, poor some mo' drank and dank.

Then hits the stain, where my frozen Ides, is

Twist off a cap where my liquid suicide lives.

Frostbitten from, that Crooked I, I'm lookin through.

We get sick, Foe Loco, the mark eastside, ridin on you.

He comin at me wrong, damn, we between the sheets.

Is suicide on yo' mind, must I leave you on these streets?

Raise up off me, but really realizin the strength.

Had him readin the e and the serial number on this thang.

Peep the slug, toke the reefer, let the barrel meet 'cha.

Mean mug in the center of the street and the reaper then.



(Hook)



(Doc) (talking)

Yeah, and a special shout goes out to all the playas on the southside.

It's a Garden Blocc thang nigga, stay rippin, know what I'm sayin.

And everythang.

Muthafuckin homies on the eastside, Foe Loco, Bugsy, Lil' Sky and shit nigga.

Y'all muthafucka's handle that gangsta shit.

And I'm out 'til the duece-nine, Garden Blocc, ride 'til I die.

Oh yeah nigga, FUCK YO' ASS SNITCH!
You know who I'm talkin to bitch.

Fuck yo' ass nigga, some brand new news a nigga picked up on.

You never know who you can trust.

Sometimes you can't even trust ya big homie.

And i'm out!