Doodie Blockavich*
Momma slaving all that work and I was gettin' on my own
Buying groceries for the crib, she say "Doodie, you think you grown"
Ma' I'm hustling, I keep my chrome
Teach my brothers, know right from wrong
I miss Von, I hate you gone
And your killer, I get him gone
I lost my brother to the feds and I be wanna drop a tear
He say he gone take a vote, put up a mil' for every year
And I swear I feel Smurk pain, we just lost DThang
Foenem get up in that truck, catching bodies, fill 'em up
Shit, I don't talk about that shit, 'cause the feds watching
And you gotta watch that back door, it could be your mans prolly
Shit, you friends with everybody
I done made a mil' and ran out it
How the fuck they know you told, and they never said nothing
I'm chasing a lot of cheques, it ain't never 'bout no bitch
I'm a corporate thug, nigga, call me Doodie Blockavich
Why the fuck you call me phone, asking me about a switch
Why every time a nigga die, it's always about a bitch
