Оригинален текст
Verse one: sam sneed (dr. dre)
(i heard sam was going solo) god damn, you didn't know so,
Well i can blast fast so freak an ill type of slow flow.
I'm hitting harder than berry boss so check the golden child,
Throwing it to your ear-hole, got you going buck wild.
But truck-tracks, rhymes all day, breaking off niggaz proper,
Did dirt, did west cause i clown coppers (yeah).
Do hip-hop, rap, compose 'em most, i couldn't see me,
Mad advanced and my skills are all about the dollar bills.
From pittsburgh to cali dropping bombs like that,
Was on the d.l. with the squad so i couldn't hold it back.
Black, i regulate i buzz a big gate figure,
Mobbing with the ill nigga, with his finger on a bigger trigger.
Serving all (saps), hitting sevens on the (simps),
Making do', eating shrimps, locing with some real pimps (yeah).
So peep game, best believe i love my peeps
That's why i make the type of music you can pump in your jeeps
(that's right).
So buck my sound, i put it down for the underground,
I got the women cause i'm slamming, jamming.
Got it going on this time for this new producer to rise,
So open your eyes, i think you better recognize.
