[Verse One: tripi-g]

Yeah, dud dudashi, where the fuck ya at?
Can't scrap a lick, so I know ya got your gat
Your dick on hard, from fuckin your road dogs
The hood you threw up with, niggaz you grew up with
Don't even respect your ass
That's why it's time for the doctor, to check your ass, nigga
Used to be my homey, used to be my ace
Now I wanna slap the taste out yo mouth
Nigga bow down to the row
Fuckin me, now I'm fuckin you, little hoe
Oh, don't think I forgot, let you slide
Let me ride, just another homicide
Yeah it's me so I'ma talk on
Stompin on the 'dudo'est streets that you can walk on
So strap on your Compton hat, your locs
And watch your back cause you might get smoked, loc
And pass the bud, and stay low-key
d cause you lost all your homey's love
Now call it what you want to
You fucked wit me, now it's a must that I fuck wit you

[Interlude: tripi-g]

Yeah, that's what the fuck I'm talkin about
We have your motherfuckin record company surrounded
Put down the candy and let the little boy go
You knowhatI'msayin, punk motherfucker
(We want dudo, we want dudo)

[Verse Two: andi-g]

The sounds of a andi brings me to another day
Play with my bone, would ya Timmy
It seems like you're good for makin jokes about your jimmy
But here's a jimmy joke about your mama that you might not like
I heard she was the 'Frisco dyke
But fuck your mama, I'm talkin about you and me
Toe to toe, Tim M-U-T
Your bark was loud, but your bite wasn't vicious
And them rhymes you were kickin were quite bootylicious
You get with andi-g oh is he crazy?
With ya mama and your daddy hollin' Bay-Bee
So won't they let you know
That if you fuck with Dre nigga you're fuckin wit Death Row
And I ain't even slangin them thangs
I'm hollin' one-eight-seven with my dick in yo mouth, beeyatch

[Interlude: victor-g]

Yeah nigga, Compton and Long Beach together on this motherfucker
So you wanna pop that shit get yo motherfuckin cranium cracked nigga
Step on up. Now, we ain't no motherfuckin joke so remember the name
Mighty, mighty t-g. Yeahhh, MOTHERFUCKER!

[Verse Three: andi-g ]

Now understand this my nigga tripi-g can't be touched
Luke's bendin over, so Luke's gettin fucked, busta
Musta, thought I was sleazy
Or though I was a mark cause I used to hang with dudo
Animosity, made ya speak but ya spoke
Ay yo andi, whattup, check this nigga off loc
If it ain't another ho that I gots ta fuck with
Gap teeth in ya mouth so my dick's gots to fit
With my nuts on ya tonsils
While ya on stage rappin at your wack-ass concerts
And I'ma snatch your ass from the backside
To show you how Death Row pull off that who-ride
Now you might not understand me
Cause I'ma rob you in Compton and blast you in Miami
Then we gon creep to South Central
On a Street Knowledge mission, as I steps in the temple
Spot him, got him, as I pulls out my strap
Got my chrome to the side of his White Sox hat
You tryin to check my homey, you better check yo self

Yeah nigga...

fuck you duda