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3 Kings (Feat. Dr. Dre & Jay Z)

Yeah, classic hip hop shit

Dr. D-R-E

Rozay and Jay, let's get 'emWe started out moppin' floors

And now we front row at the awards

Number one for the last twenty years

If you real mothafucka scream cheers! (cheers, cheers)

Mothafucka scream cheers! (cheers, cheers)

Yeah and it is what it is

He wanted to shine at the swap meet

Til the white boys got him in that hot seat

I only love it when her hair long

You should listen to this beat through my headphones

Money long, number one twenty years strong

Fuck a gym, I am him, Andre Young

G5's to 6-4s, Dre got 'em

If the bitch bad I got her in red bottoms

Great weed, nice homes, bread proper

Tec nine, one chamber, top shotta

Bentley coupe, new yacht, my helicopter

Born broke, real nigga straight out of Compton

The fuck you magazine niggas want from me?

I rewrote the game, nigga, now talk money

All black on my Al Capone shit

I built a house, nigga get your own shit

I only love it when her hair long

You should listen to this beat through my headphonesSee y'all niggas

Hit the switches on that shit one time, huh

Let the top downI came a long way from the weed game

Twenty stack seats at the Heat game

And I'm still strapped with the heat man

And we steppin' on a nigga feet man

80 pair of sneakers came from the D game

Cousin was a Crip, said it was a C thing

Brown bag money in a duffle bag

Fuck 'em all, wet 'em and we gotta double back

The homie whippin' chickens in his momma kitchen

On the mission, said he get it for his son tuition

Real nigga's dreams comin' to fruition

Stumble, but I never fall, leanin' on my pistol

I only love her when the ass fat

We should listen to this track in my Maybach

I'm just tryin' to be a billionaire

Come and suck a dick for a millionaireUh, it's just different

I know it feels differentUh, I only love her if her eyes brown

Play this shit while you play around with my crown

King H-O, y'all should know by now

But if you don't know, uh

Millions on the wall in all my rooms

Niggas couldn't fuck with my daughter's room

Niggas couldn't walk in my daughter's socks

Banksy bitches, Basquiat

I ran through that buck fifty Live Nation fronted me

They workin' on another deal, they talkin' two hundred fifty

I'm holdin' out for three

Two seventy five and I just might agree

Ex-D-boy, used to park my beamer

Now look at me, I can park in my own arena

I only love her if her weave new

I'm still a hood nigga, what you want me to do?

Been hoppin' out the BM with your BM

Taking her places that you can't go with your per diem

Screamin' carpe diem until I'm a dead poet

Robin Williams shit, I deserve a golden globe bitch!

I take a Ace in the meanwhile

You ain't gotta keep this Khaled, it's just a freestyle

Fuck rap money, I've made more off crates

Fuck show money, I spent that on drapes

Close the curtains, fuck boy, out my face

I whip the coke, let the lawyer beat the case

Murder was the case that they gave me

I killed the Hermes store, somebody save me

Stuntin' to the max like wavy

Oh shit!

Oh, stuntin' to the max, I'm so wavy

Used to shop at TJ Maxx back in '83

I don't even know if it was open then

I ain't know Oprah then

Have the XL 80 bike

Loud motor, they be like, "Damn!" when I'm comin' through, rang

Had the grill in '88, y'all niggas is late

You got all that, right?

I love this shit like my own daughter

Let's spray these niggas, baby, just like daddy taught ya

Young, this is just different

Songwriters

CARTER, SHAWN / YOUNG, ANDRE / ROBERTS, WILLIAM / WEARY, JIMMY LEE / SHEPHERD, CLARA MPublished by

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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