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Woof! (feat. Mystikal and Fiend)

[Mac]

No Limit black sheep played the back seat for months

Stayed away from the Tanqueray bitches and blunts

Still Mac nigga ain't nothin' changed

Got the rings and the gold chains

Now bitches want to know my whole name

I penetrate em then I disintegrate em

I let the next nigga date em 'cause I don't hate em

I spit voodoo to the most hard to get hoes

And at the end of the night, I rippin' off clothes

You fuckin' with the realest, from lyrical spillers

To killers and dealers and cap peelers, and street guerrillas

From villains to chillers, we made millions

And paid killers to protect scrilla

So what the fuck you talk about winners?

You hear that word camouflage when you hear my name

I represent the shell shocked 'cause it's in my veins

(No Limit soldier) is on my left arm, I took it in blood

Throw your hood up if you a thug

And all them niggas say[Chorus: Mac]

You see a soldier on the streets holler

You hear them soldiers on them beats holler

Every time them soldiers speak holler[Kane and Abel]

Load your weapons, grab your gats

We sprinkle daily verbs over tracks

Hit the chest like heart attacks

When my lyrical hammer cock back

And leave bullet holes in your Bourbons and 'Lacs

The only thing we give them hoes is a dick and a smack

Gangstafied Kane and Abel you know the camouflage assassin

Blastin' and mashin', kidnappin' and head bashin'

Razor blade slashin', the endo blunt passin'

For the cash and, woah it's bout to happen

What you want (?) ugly with that 223

Hit em up in 3-d, now it's banned from TV

Niggas playa hated, I sure hated

Spark the weed, cremated

See this game, we regulated[Mr. Serv-On]

Nigga, you know me

The nigga that spell everything out? (nah)

The nigga that'll run through your motherfuckin' set and bang

your hoe motherfuckin' out (Fuck yeah nigga)

The nigga that's catchin these niggas and beatin em down

'cause they wearin' Tanks, they don't know what the fuck it mean

Nigga, that's the fuck, that's about punchin' your fuckin' mouth

The nigga that'll tear the club up

Nigga, I don't give a fuck if you bangin' or slangin'

Nigga when I put this Tank up nigga you get rowdy as the fuck

But if you think I was gonna leave this motherfucker without

spellin' a line

K-L you done lost your motherfuckin' mind

Stop the track 'cause these niggas don't know about my click black

I down with the M to the A to the see

It's the S to the E to the are to the V

Fuckin' with the T to the A to the N to the K

And when I come through motherfucker and I raise my Tank up high

You best believe some a you coward motherfuckers goin' die[Chorus][Big Ed]

Nigga what I claim?

Nigga I claim true!

I hang with niggas that's killers with true tattoos

I got my name Big Ed from what I put between hips

I got my name Assassin from the way I empty out clips

Wear the No Limit soldier, thuggin' at heart

Hittin' niggas with throw aways when I toss em I break em apart

Niggas get your guns up if you rowdy

And when Assassin hit the stores, buy the album if you bout it

bout it[Snoop Dogg]

Rowdy gangsta in this motherfucker, loco

So I can come through and keep it true

and do what the fuck I must

I bust, I keep it true from the 'ginnin

Snoop Dogg, the representer from Long Beach city

A true tank dog, bank y'all in y'all face

If y'all try to come close, y'all can't run this race

I place my self above the stack

With my homeboys Mac and sack you fact, we strap for strap

We got your back, don't even flip out or trip out

Or dip out, these niggas lookin' at me strange

My game to maintain, I let it go, I sell it don't tell it

y'all can't touch it motherfucker, or bail it, for real[Mia X]

Biggest mama, drama two guns here I come

Put down for my last son, the camouflaged one

Mac the don, get your shine on 'cause it's your time

And I'ma get my rhyme on and spit like nine

Cocked nine millimeters the ghetto diva

Mia X-rated, golden platinum plated

Face it, when they hear me on the K-L track

All them niggas grab they head and jump back

Hollin' whoa 'cause it's goin' down like lips to dick

I'm so tight I make you bitches never want to see the mic

And spit, the matter lesson rhymes next to mine

I'm mama superior, you hoes is fearin' the

Lyrical warfare I exhale

Some fake bitches like you name is Mel

Battle anybody, hip hop or glock

On true I'ma close your shop, woah

Songwriters

BROADUS, CALVIN / SPRADLEY, DAVID LEE / SHIDER, GARRY MARSHALL / CLINTON, GEORGE S / MILLER, PERCY / JONES, RICHARD / TYLER, MICHAEL L / BAZILE, CRAIGPublished by

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