All my real dogs still kick it with me
All my down hoes still tricking with me
All the true gangsters know
Nate ain't never love no ho
All the hood rats still shake it for me
All my true fans still checking for me
All the real smokers know
Nate ain't passing nothing' but dro indeed
Real trees, chronic leaves, no seeds
When I met you last night, baby
Before I blew your mind (Blew, blew, blew your mind)
I thought we had a chance, lady
No more, now that I'm sober, you ain't that fine (Hmm)
Don't wanna treat you wrong
Don't wanna lead you on
Here, baby, hit the bong
While the West Coast rolls along
While we still making gangster hits
You'll be still jocking gangster dicks
Damn, girl, you think you're slick?
Somebody better get this bitch, this bitch