Dr.Dre: As the world keeps turning

Intro/Chorus:As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning(This ain't no) street sermon, these niggas are determined*Repeat*Verse 1:WhereI flow like CD's in the deckMoosh fools in the face htat lack respectProtect ya arm, pitch from the funkI deodirise the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust GSo leave me alone I'm in the zoneWalkin the streets on my own, nigga get blownSome niggas say that nigga Where is goneBut I'm low in the cut and gotta microphoneAre you gone bust or play bones?You motherfuckin clone, get off that nigga's style and get'cha ownIt's Miscellane and it's on againFor the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in stepAnd kept ya big fuckin mouth shutChorusVerse 2:WhereI woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back acheAdvil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrongMy world is gone like discoBlowin up Cisco and in my CammoStandin in back of me was my soulThinking of the easiest way to get a bank rollKnowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifoldA tar can of hos to lubricate my system quickShaky bitches off the dickCos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lipsI'm slow but equipped with the proper toolsShow me the one talkin shit so I can drop a foolI'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he Mr CREAMCome back on the scene and smoke a phillie, GI really dream of gettin mine now let me tell you what's sillyMe, buckin with my team is murder oneI heard a gun bustin shots (SHOTS!), down the block (BLOCK!)I guess a nigga gettin what he got (GOT!)Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke niggasI'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone callTo a trick that didn't even careCos she was gettin fucked somewhere, you're stuck in thereNow you wanna bust, nigga, now you wanna kill, nigga (Nigga)Nigga how ya feel? (Nigga)You can't try to be real (You can't try to be real)Shit is for realChorusVerse 3:WhereI'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temperAnd I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goesLet's take it back to the first sideWhen you was a new jack and jockin my new trackBut you was wrong, didn't know about the big longHead-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yardWitta teenage group I'm turnin loots to tracksMe and my niggas like (These tracks are laced with bomb weed and tightlyrics)You wanna know what the hos used to doWhen me and my crew came bustin throughAll sorts of blushins brew(A neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, Miscellane is the crew)Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blueThis is for the bitches and niggas that wanna frontI smoke on, I broke on till I spoke onMiscellane packin shows like FarrakhanWhere is on another level with two niggas that's on the same plateauNow that's three times your tightest flowAnd three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sackThree times is clever (BUCK!)Chorus x 2Outro:Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the beltBarely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurtTo art in hell, where the next man dwellsThe place with stankin pussy and crack rock dwells