“2” Famous Dogs (To All Dogs)

Intro: Lil' Lunch, Lil' Hawk & B-Brazy:

Gangsta, gangsta...

Uh, to all my real leaders, yeah, this that nigga Lil' Lunch, lettin' y'all know it's on the '97, it's the last Bangin' on Wax, we bangin' on facts from that mad-ass YG Lil' Lunchmeat, Inglewood to South Central, and just to set the record straight, we real gangstas comin' up out the crooked eye, oh, and to that nigga Mack-10, AKA Deuce-Deuce Ballway, you clowned yaself, bitch-ass nigga, Inglewood ain't givin' Long Beach niggas no passes, Inglewooooood

Now here's a story of two famous dogs, Lil' Hawk and Braze-the-Daze, no puppy dogs, no doggy dogs, just B-dogs, and when it's two B-dogs, flaggin' and saggin' their tails, it must be there, man, hahahahaha, check him out

Verse 1: Lil' Hawk:

Up early in the mornin', wakin' up, jumpin' out the bed
Smokin' and chokin' on some Chronic, now my eyes all red
Lil' mothafuckin' Hawkster, man, you niggas know me
'Cause I'm the same mothafucka that killed yo' Crab homies

Verse 2: B-Brazy:

Y'all know me, shit, long hair with the goatee
I'm doin' licks with the OG
I know y'all niggas talkin' shit, I pop a cap in that ass
For eatin' ass off the video, really though (Really though)
Saggin' with a G, I bell with pistol packers
Bust a bitch, a hoe I'm smackin'
Khaki and (?) saggin'

Verse 3: Lil' Hawk:

And we the real doggy dogs, Lil' Hawk and B-Brazy
Red flag, khakis sag, you Crab niggas gettin' the fades
You gettin' played like this instrumental, Inglewood to South Bentral
Mafia Lane, real simple

Verse 4: B-Brazy:

We put it to they temple, then to lay 'em down, you gon' get the tape
While I crack the safe and workin' with the duct tape
Fool, I know you hatin', causin' 108th
Best to fly for them Lanes 'cause the homies shoot strange

Chorus x2:

For my dogs, for my dogs
If you out there, put the B
Bring yo' heat, bring yo' heat
Nuthin' but the dogs, hear me?

Verse 5: Lil' Hawk:

Twinkle, twinkle, they try to shoot the star
But you Crab niggas missed, you niggas only shot my car
Now how far you gon' get, you mothafuckas can't ride
When I CMG ride through the wicked Westside

Verse 6: B-Brazy:

This ain't no Damu Ridas, me, Hawk and Spyder
And the ridas, came to three-wheel when I glide up
We the ridin' Eastsidas, Rickets right behind us
Scared to pass us up, 'cause they scared we blast 'em up

Verse 7: Lil' Hawk:

Nigga, ain't no justice, no bustas, no mothafuckin' peace
DPGCK in the name of the street
Nigga, there ain't no love on this mic, black Puma, red stripes
Bitches all up on the swipe because my game strong tight

Verse 8: B-Brazy:

I got the parties on by the throwdown
Fuckin' with the bow wow, nigga
Best to watch out there now
And up jump the boogie, I'mma go and get my cookies
And I'm puttin' that on DOB, YG

Verse 9: Lil' Hawk:

Now, I'm rollin', ridin', and slidin', 'less she spoke, triple gold
You can pay me good but get yo' paper, that's what I was told
'Cause I remember when I used to smoke niggas for free
But nowadays I'm gettin' paid just to say CMG

Chorus x2

Verse 10: B-Brazy:

Now is you bangin' or what? Niggas, hookers and sluts
I'll bust a nut off a Hawk and B-Braze cut
You know what, Sweet Daddy, OH, Braze-a-Daze
And get paid, and bust a bitch with the Pocahontas braids

Verse 11: Lil' Hawk:

Now these Crab-ass niggas sent they bitch to set me up
But I was already knowin' 'em, ain't no tryin' to wet me up
- So what happened to the bitch then?
Nigga, I choked her
- So you let the bitch guilty?
Hell naw, I smoke her

Verse 12: B-Brazy:

K-cut around the backpocket, nigga, don't knock it
Gimme any mic and I rock it
Fool, I done stood on many stages, rocked many of mics
With the bright red tint and bright red Nikes

Verse 13: Lil' Hawk:

Now let it rain, let it drip
It's the Bloods, fuck the Crips
CMG, DOB and we known to set trip
109, 104, nigga
And that's the way that shit go, nigga
And the way that shit flow, straight bangin'

Chorus x4