What Goes Up

[Intro: Snoop Dogg]
Say, man
20 years in the game, man
And there's one thing I found out, man
The game will revolve, and it will come to you if it's meant for you to have it
But what's real and what's fake is..

[Verse 1: Slim The Mobster]
What goes up must come down
But I promise to shake the world up if my feet touch the ground
Now I party 'till the patron out
Start a fight and get thrown out
Party out of control now
Tell the bartender send another round to the the women
But only the fly women
Not a gold digger mistress
Smelling money through my denim
Silk suits and linen
The big coup is tinted
The TV's like a 10 inch
The definition of menace
Bitches stay on my dick
24 hour fitness
They surprised I did it
Now the sky's the limit
They say money bring power and what did I do to get it
In the pursuit of happiness, I'm Will Smith with it
No pen, no pad, just real swift with it
My music is all I had when no bitch could deal with it
Left a lot of shit in the past, your ass along with it
Make sure I send you a plaque every time I get it
For every time you told me to quit it and I didn't
I hope you get the post card and pictures
The letters when I send them
Look at the view I'm getting
Cheers to your bitches, here's to you bitches

[Verse 2: Snoop Dogg]
Hahaha
Yeah
Here's to you bitches
Especially you bucky mouth bitches that
Didn't think a nigga was gonna make it
Yeah, now I'm having money, cars, bank accounts, blowing big kush
I'm so mother fucking high in the sky
I think I'm a mother fucking California bald eagle
Yeah, bitch. A bald eagle
Can you dig that?
Catch me if you can, mother fucker I'm sky high
Walking up on you, I ain't doing no drive-bys
Drug rehab take a stab at my red eyes
9 shot, fly swat, leaving you dead flys
Last call, asphalt, got your ass taped off
Make off, break off, taking my cape off
Head to the back ?? with Slim in the back seat
Dre and Dogg back, we ain't fucking with wack beats
Bitch ass niggas who ain't brought nothing back like
All in my lane, boy, get out my spot light
Not playing no more, man fuck a pop record
Better make a hot record, I ain't gon' say it no more
Uh, we twist, drip, and ball
Ya'll motha fuckas better listen to Dogg
Get the bitches, the drank, the money and respect
And never hit the set without your Tec on deck
Ya digg?