Lyrics Mr. Rock (feat. Al B. Sure) - Chubb Rock

Ya′ll know me still the same OG
But I been low key
Hated on by most these niggas
With no cheese, no deals and no G's, no wheels and no keys
No boats, no snowmobiles and no skis
Mad at me cause
I can finally afford to provide my family with groceries
Got a crib with a studio and it′s all full of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hanging up in the office in back of my house like trophies
But ya'll think I'm gonna let my dough freeze
Ho Please
You better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to smoke trees?
Who you think brought you the oldies?
Eazy-E′s, Ice Cube′s, and D.O.C's, the Snoop D O double G′s
And a group that said motherfuck the police?
Gave you a tape full of dope beats
To bump when stroll through in your hood
And when your album sales wasn't doing too good
Who′s the doc that they told you to go see?
Ya'll better listen up closely
All you niggas that said that I turned pop
Or the Firm flopped
Ya′ll are the reason Dre ain't been getting no sleep
So fuck ya'll all of ya′ll
If ya′ll don't like me blow me
Ya′ll are gonna keep fucking around with me
And turn me back to the old me

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothing comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

So what do you say to somebody you hate?
Or anyone tryna bring trouble your way?
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way
Just study your tape of NWA.
One day I was walking by
With a Walkman on
When I caught a guy give me an awkward eye (what you looking at?)
And strangled him off in the parking lot with his Karl Kani
I don't give a fuck if it′s dark or not
I'm harder than me tryna park a Dodge
But I′m drunk as fuck
Right next to a humongous truck in a two car garage
Hopping out with two broken legs tryna walk it off
Fuck you too, bitch, call the cops
I'ma kill you and them loud ass motherfucking barking dogs
And when the cops came through
Me and Dre stood next to a burnt down house
With a can full of gas and a hand full of matches
And still weren't found out (Right Here)
So from here on out it′s the Chronic 2
Starting today and tomorrow′s the new
And I'm still loco enough
To choke you to death with a Charleston chew
Slim shady hotter than a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz with the windows up
And the temp goes up to the mid 80′s
Calling men ladies
Sorry Doc but I been crazy
There is no way that you can save me
It's OK go with him Hailie (Dadda?)

If it was up to me
You motherfuckers would stop coming up to me
With your hands out looking up to me
Like you want something free
When my last CD was out you wasn′t bumping me
But now that I got this little company
Everybody wanna come to me like it was some disease
But you won't get a crumb from me
Cause I′m from the streets of Compton
I told 'em all
All them little gangstas
Who you think helped mold 'em all
Now you wanna run around and talk about guns
Like I ain′t got none
What you think I sold ′em all
Cause I stay well off
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin' Dre fell off
What, cause I been in the lab with a pen and a pad
Tryna get this damn label off
I ain′t having that
This is the millennium of Aftermath
It ain't gonna be nothing after that
So give me one more platinum plaque and fuck rap
You can have it back
So where′s all the mad rappers at?
It's like a jungle in this habitat
But all you savage cats
Knew that I was strapped with gats
When you were cuddling a cabbage patch