[Intro - Virginya Slim & Crooked I] Yeah.. Death Row, baby (Death Row!) Heavy hitters Uh-uh (Yeah) (Why am I?) Crooked I (Yeah) (Who are you, though?) Virginia Slim, baby (Let 'em know somethin') That we ain't going nowhere (Nowhere, niggas) Second dynasty here (Yeah) Play boy
[Crooked I] Tell me what's all the fuss, one hundred seventy five police wastin' all of the taxpayer's dollars just to holler at us? Mad cause the Benzes is hot, the Impalas is plush Nobody bothered me when I used to hop on the bus Now the cops follow me, the life of Dominick's rough They wanna throw a young don in some cuffs But it's... (still Death Row) I let 'em know, if they didn't remember I know, some of you suckas got hidden agendas But I'm, sick of pretenders Niggas'd rather stick their dick in a blender Than to go against the sickest contender Get your ridiculous click to surrender My game code is winter when it ends in December Scoop your chicken and Bend Hurr... tender You know how young niggas roll Send ya hoe... to your husband, walking pigeon-toed The West Coast is ours Still them other niggas old Over fifty million sold
[Chorus - Virginya Slim and Crooked I] It's still Tha Row... ugh (Baby, we still stackin' money up) And what we gon' do? (Lady, we still don't give a fuck) And how we roll y'all? (Baby, we still in the club beat) We represent, what? (We still represent the streets) It's still Tha Row (Baby, we still spendin' star bucks) And what we throwin' up? (Sweetheart, we still throw them balls up) And who we beefin' with? (We still beefin' with the po-po) And what they say we is? (We still ghetto) It's still Tha Row
[Crooked I] Some of you gangsta rappers out there poppin' seventy pills Man, you bangin' on wax cats'll never be real (Marks!) This ghetto celebrity still do whatever he feel Look at my billboard, I took a shit on Beverly Hills That's 'cause it's all about Crooked (Yeah, it's all about green) Around y'all (We stand tall) As who? (Yao Ming) Y'all mean? And Crooked keep a heat compartment I don't speak to rappers that work for the Police Department Nine milli, I eat your heart with I seek the target, reach in garments, squeeze diesel vomits I don't need y'all to start me Ten million albums sold? Maybe if I look like Paul McCartney But I'm dark as dark Bacardi, dark as Marcus Garvey Sparks cigars that start the party... ugh! And we ain't lettin' suckers in I got a lovely deal and I own my publishing'
[Chorus]
[Outro 1 - Virginya Slim & Crooked I] Yeah, Red Bone... Queen, Virginia Slim, Miss Gail Gotti (This for my gangsters) Representin'... heavy hitters Death Row, baby We done slept too long (And for my hustlers) Y'all done had y'all time Now we back Ready to keep it gangster (And for my riders) Yeah... the real ones The ride or die ones Come on..
[Crooked I] And I heard every single word that you say at your show But when we at the awards ceremony, they have to go S.W.A.T. Team stormin' the label, one of 'em's even pointing a A.K. at the door Another day at Tha Row They say we only out to split wigs What about the hospital trips givin' gifts to sick kids? Oh, I see, you want us ALL doing six bids It's okay, we still big cars and sick cribs, the Death Row way No way... Crooked came into this game to lose I'm anxious, I'ma change the rules I'm dangerous, I'm a gangster Langston Hughes I'm a mistress that you can't confuse I'm from Tha Row, so if I piss it'll make the news
[Chorus]
[Outro 2 - Crooked I] Yeah... I know you're lovin' that Turn on your T.V.... open up a newspaper or somethin' Read all about us... them ghetto cats Tryin' to shove us out the game, but they can't There's a ghetto in every city in America And I'm from the Big West Second dynasty... Death Row is back! Yeah! All you mutts get off our nuts Chuuuch! Ah, ha...! Ha, ha, ha, ha..
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[Intro - Virginya Slim & Crooked I] Yeah.. Death Row, baby (Death Row!) Heavy hitters Uh-uh (Yeah) (Why am I?) Crooked I (Yeah) (Who are you, though?) Virginia Slim, baby (Let 'em know somethin') That we ain't going nowhere (Nowhere, niggas) Second dynasty here (Yeah) Play boy
[Crooked I] Tell me what's all the fuss, one hundred seventy five police wastin' all of the taxpayer's dollars just to holler at us? Mad cause the Benzes is hot, the Impalas is plush Nobody bothered me when I used to hop on the bus Now the cops follow me, the life of Dominick's rough They wanna throw a young don in some cuffs But it's... (still Death Row) I let 'em know, if they didn't remember I know, some of you suckas got hidden agendas But I'm, sick of pretenders Niggas'd rather stick their dick in a blender Than to go against the sickest contender Get your ridiculous click to surrender My game code is winter when it ends in December Scoop your chicken and Bend Hurr... tender You know how young niggas roll Send ya hoe... to your husband, walking pigeon-toed The West Coast is ours Still them other niggas old Over fifty million sold
[Chorus - Virginya Slim and Crooked I] It's still Tha Row... ugh (Baby, we still stackin' money up) And what we gon' do? (Lady, we still don't give a fuck) And how we roll y'all? (Baby, we still in the club beat) We represent, what? (We still represent the streets) It's still Tha Row (Baby, we still spendin' star bucks) And what we throwin' up? (Sweetheart, we still throw them balls up) And who we beefin' with? (We still beefin' with the po-po) And what they say we is? (We still ghetto) It's still Tha Row
[Crooked I] Some of you gangsta rappers out there poppin' seventy pills Man, you bangin' on wax cats'll never be real (Marks!) This ghetto celebrity still do whatever he feel Look at my billboard, I took a shit on Beverly Hills That's 'cause it's all about Crooked (Yeah, it's all about green) Around y'all (We stand tall) As who? (Yao Ming) Y'all mean? And Crooked keep a heat compartment I don't speak to rappers that work for the Police Department Nine milli, I eat your heart with I seek the target, reach in garments, squeeze diesel vomits I don't need y'all to start me Ten million albums sold? Maybe if I look like Paul McCartney But I'm dark as dark Bacardi, dark as Marcus Garvey Sparks cigars that start the party... ugh! And we ain't lettin' suckers in I got a lovely deal and I own my publishing'
[Chorus]
[Outro 1 - Virginya Slim & Crooked I] Yeah, Red Bone... Queen, Virginia Slim, Miss Gail Gotti (This for my gangsters) Representin'... heavy hitters Death Row, baby We done slept too long (And for my hustlers) Y'all done had y'all time Now we back Ready to keep it gangster (And for my riders) Yeah... the real ones The ride or die ones Come on..
[Crooked I] And I heard every single word that you say at your show But when we at the awards ceremony, they have to go S.W.A.T. Team stormin' the label, one of 'em's even pointing a A.K. at the door Another day at Tha Row They say we only out to split wigs What about the hospital trips givin' gifts to sick kids? Oh, I see, you want us ALL doing six bids It's okay, we still big cars and sick cribs, the Death Row way No way... Crooked came into this game to lose I'm anxious, I'ma change the rules I'm dangerous, I'm a gangster Langston Hughes I'm a mistress that you can't confuse I'm from Tha Row, so if I piss it'll make the news
[Chorus]
[Outro 2 - Crooked I] Yeah... I know you're lovin' that Turn on your T.V.... open up a newspaper or somethin' Read all about us... them ghetto cats Tryin' to shove us out the game, but they can't There's a ghetto in every city in America And I'm from the Big West Second dynasty... Death Row is back! Yeah! All you mutts get off our nuts Chuuuch! Ah, ha...! Ha, ha, ha, ha..
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