Nothin' But The Cavi Hit

Blaze up (oh yeah!)
Worldwide (don't stop, don't stop)
Westside (don't stop)
Yeah, Mack 10 with Tha Dogg Pound
Yeah, and the hits don't stop (Sucka)
Nothin' but the cavi
Check it, hey, Daz, Kurupt, check this out, dog

Now when I come to y'all hood, y'all watch my back
And when you come to Inglewood, I'ma front you a sack
So we can grind and get away with the cash like a caper
'Cause it ain't about the set-trip, it's all about the paper
Made the poverty cease, on the rise like yeast
A pavé 'lex piece, and I keep my khaki's creased
Mack 10 is the lick, and ya know what my set be
Connect gang, nigga, from the West, where the best be

It ain't no questions asked, you down to blast for me?
Down to ride for me? Down to die for me?
I come through for these sucker-ass niggas for rep
Come creepin' up on 'em slowly but surely show 'em death
Pull out the MAK 90 automatic for static
Blast a couple of niggas, leave 'em all panicked
We swerve and hit the curb, smoke some herb
We came up too much, too tough, and too rough

We in the war zone where the war's on, where ya gun, nigga?
Show 'em where you're from, nigga, ridin'-ass young nigga
Arsenal equipped, hot enough to scorch
With the double fours on the hip rollin' with the force
He's out to catch a body
Talkin' 'bout "I thought this was a gangsta party"
Now he's walkin' around salty as the sea
Talkin' 'bout "What's jumpin'?"
I'm 'bout to get the pump to pumpin' and start dumpin' on somethin'

Fuck you over there, party over here
And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
'Cause niggas like us do platinum every year
And if I ruled this sphere (your shit'd disappear)
Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
And wave 'em all around like you just don't care
It's worldwide and dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
Mack 10 and Tha Pound cookin' nothin' but the cavi

I'm servin' niggas like a host with the pound, so take a toast
Dog, this West Coast and our shit bump the most (Westside)
'Cause vine to vine, I swing through the woods of Ingle
And everything I make, fuck around and be a single
From the hoo-bangin' hits, to the yes, yes, y'alls
Now all down my halls, got plaques on my walls
We might slow the roll, sit back and still kick it
But the shit don't stop 'til we hit a meal ticket

I'll be goddamned, I'm in it for a meal ticket
And the goal's successful, I don't know who to prove a show
Usual swerve a corner, hit a block back-to-back
I don't know, it's like that, where the gangbangers hang at
They say, "Daz, you a rider?"
I reply with, "Boy, hell yeah, I'm a rider!"
From the Eastside of Long Beach to the Westside of Inglewood
On a cash mission bailin' hood to hood

Once upon a time in the early stages of my life
Sacrifice, out for the loot shaking niggas like dice
Forever and a day, say what you say
On the mic I display, Philly to LA
I've been all over from Crenshaw and Imperial
To 108th, I'm sure Mack got my back
It's all about mashin', cash and heat in the stash
When you're with a neighborhood of assassins

(What you say?) Fuck you over there, party over here
And if you wanna trip, we got the straps near
'Cause niggas like us do platinum every year
And if I ruled this sphere (your shit'd disappear)
Now everybody in the house, throw your dubs in the air
And wave 'em all around like ya just don't care
It's worldwide and dope, so, nigga, act like ya savvy
Mack 10 and Tha Pound cookin' nothin' but the cavi (Dogg Pound)

What do you consider fun? (That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
All day night, and all night long (that's the bomb, that's the bomb)
When you wake up in the morning, and you start to yawn
(That's the bomb, that's the bomb)
All day night, and all day long, come on (that's the bomb, that's the bomb)
Come on, haha, yeah

Dub S.C.G
D.P.G.C
Take a picture, trick (yeah, yeah)
Take a picture, trick (yeah, yeah)
Take a picture, trick
It might make ya rich
Westside (don't quit, don't quit)
Biatch
Death Row