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Snoop Doggy Dogg - Gold Rush (feat. Kurupt & LBC Crew)
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Crédits

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Snoop Dogg
Snoop Dogg
Künstler:in
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Calvin Cordozar Broadus Jr.
Calvin Cordozar Broadus Jr.
Komponist:in

Paroles

Wild Wild West Wild Wild West (shoot 'em up) Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (Wild Wild West) Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (Wild Wild West) Wild Wild West Josey Wales was known for robbin' trains and banks Laying everybody down for diamond rings and chains It remains the same in the year you live in, see 'Cause if I pull out some heat, nigga, you'll go kick in And that's just the rules set by the fool from the ol' school When it's time to duel, you get two men Two heaters, one street, one clock And when it strike 12 one of y'all gon' drop If you're quick on the draw, you're gon' see the morgue But if you're too slow, I catch you on the downlow (oh no) Oh no, you mean The Kid, shit's real I ain't no John Wayne, these niggas gangbang The Four Horsemen, that's the click I'm with You mean the little bitty niggas with the itchy trigger fingers Yeah, we're on a mission to Kansas, slipping through Texas We stopped at Bonanza to get us some hot cakes Bacon and eggs, and then we slip in the whorehouse to get us some leg Hop back on the horses, enforcers of courses The niggas in black, the fearless Four Horsemen Searching for this location on the map The gold rush, baby, got to have it (I gots to have it) It feels just like it's 1865 And a trigger look-a-day is how I ride On and on and on it's more strange Time to heat, shooting range Quick with the heat on their hip Young Jesse James come to test your aim I seen you at the Wild Horny Corral, I heard of ya name The forcify, nigga, you ain't never lie Besides, I'm in the mood, so at high noon, we ride From coast to coast, niggas mash on every stage coach My disciples with rifles lethal in whole posts The off-the-rocker roller coaster On a six-shooter holster with DPG on every Wanted poster Let me think about which bank to gank Which fellow to shoot and which teller to shank I want all the shit you got in stacks Attached to this skirt in the corner So I snatched the bitch in the back The Dogg in me feels for the lust But the hogg in me makes me wanna bust Back to the drawing down board Nowadays, we drawn down more To survive through all the round wards Battle up or saddle up and shake the scene Or get'cha pockets shaken, clean the slugs in ya spleen I can't help it, I'm heartless, you can't hack it With my six-shooters on my hips and dusty jacket Like that, cock back, quick to pull my strap Just to put the Horsemen on the map (The gold rush) Born is Doggystyle, individual, James got the hots I got the six shots for all the plans and plots I gots lots o' cash stashed in money bags Worthy workers for all the Russian blabbermouths and gags I got stacks, so my stacks excel Hop in the coach with my 12 Clydesdales and bells I'm on the move, smooth, to my decoy horse A 30-30 on my side to shoot a nigga o' course It ain't no stopping young Josey, box all the nosey Headed to the saloon with my platoon where all the hoes be Left a dusty trail, bailed in swell Gold spurs on the Gators, set back the clientele Oh well, for the recop, I drop my bet Divide between my homies and ride the sunset Two sacks o' money from the train heist They ain't even counted it up, just mounted it up Rode west toward the coaster, six-shooters in the holster Pass through a run-down town whose walls hold my poster Closer I get to death which is every second makes me sweat So I gotta have what I can get Heard word about the gold rush and headed West On my white horsey with three straps in my napsack Giddy up, the next town I rode through I had to threaten to blow their city up Undebts with Chief Black, caught five miles west Sell us some beads and hail us some weed He offered me a toke He didn't have a 20, he had they peace-pipe smoke, I almost choked Break him for the get, right, I'm off into the sunset Trying to reach my destiny fast, it's these two bags o' cash 44's cocked, I ain't makin no mo' stops 'Til I hit the spot, I made it 12 on the dot I slid off my boots, counted my loot Five minutes after the strike of midnight I counted 200 Gs, I cocked my strap and slept tight (At the gold rush, at the gold rush At the gold rush, at the gold rush At the-, at the-, at the-)
Writer(s): Ricardo Brown, Unknown Splits, David Williams, Cordozar Broadus, Jamarr Stamps, Reggie Vanterpool, Ralph Wheeler Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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