Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: Luniz. My Buddy.

Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
And you know that

Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you, my buddy
My buddy, my buddy, my buddy
Me and you

Who can fade it, two assassins up on the mic
Blastin', askin' no questions
When they catch you in a gunfight
Kaboom, we still mash as a team

As we mash for our dreams
Actin' hood niggas for green
It's Dillinger, forfillin',
Makin' a low outta killin'

Pullin' scandalous jeans
Forfillin' fantasy dreams
Catch me on a Costa Rica
With a island full of weed
Money and bitches
On a boat for sweet

See when I'm yellin'
International help me
No color lines on my
Ugly and fine, you can sell me

I'm glad folks think the same way as I do
'Cause I stab bitches way down in the Bayou
Would you make way for two mo'
Fo' blows, like you have hoes

Stamp a nation wide through the ghetto
Fore youngsters, Hennessey sponsors
With fore youngsters on a
Quarter of the map now I do

I spin mayor loot and khaki suits
Nike's and cripsacks
Wetsuits and leather boots
I block niggas twice with thighs
Buck with a .45
Make you open while
You blast at the parking lot

What you speakin' on
Wanna go through it
Drink a lot, made from fluid
Scrump bitch, don't you hear the music

My buddy, Daz Dilly and Knubskully
You will be thanked
With you're petty pang petty

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)

Check it out
No bitch ass niggas, no funny ass hoes
Dogg Pound Gangstas drippin' in low-lows
You ain't all about the homies

You besta check the fault
Pencils, playin' niggas in the crowd style
Thinkin' 'bout the row outta town
With the heater cock bust a million rounds

Dogg Pound internationals
Drippin' off fools
While the dock can bust
The facility touch

I made the game down correct
And kissed my belt like I was James Brown
Spin around with the twist on the ground
[Unverified]

Turn a diss in the pound
Dogg Pound live around
Niggas hittin' the ground
Fuck around and get shot up

I tear shit up, you can ask Puff
Let M.C.'s, Mary J. B. and Jodeci
About that nigga Yuk means the hardcore
You're kicked off tour
For piss marking on the hotel floor

G riders, We ride, DP ride
Get the mashin' niggas
Or the mat see automatic
Get the blastin' niggas
Shakin' nigga, bankin' nigga
Quit the heater
Stop blankin' niggas

I'm jack style surrounded by weed smoke
See me and my peoples in the club
Thugged up, suited in street clothes
We roll, cut dough
'Cause we so on triple gold, see hoes
With weed with me and my amigo

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)

Who did that, who shitted
Who spoke on the ghetto row, You
Who supa-dupu fly
I gave it to the test players I will come back

Why don't you meet me over in the O, Homie
'Cause when I get there
The hoes will be all off on me
I know y'all got a gang of bitches

Ha, ha and like fabulous thangs
And livin' life persutive in nights machine dippin'
With a pocket full of c-notes
Cruise the block with a 9 lookin' for weed-o
And oh yeah, who got the gangsta shit
Daz and Kurupt and Knumbskull and Yuk for shit bitch

I'm still a player, pop the slinger
Ice-cream and [unverified]
Rockin' Hillfiger just like a dada
I rock around the house of rockwilder
Just like a mobster, time to clock me
Daz, Kurupt and Knumb in the Impala

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)

What, what, what, what you're livin' here
To live the life that gangstas do
(My buddy, my buddy)
(My buddy, my buddy)