Rub, rub, rubby-doo-day Rum-pum-pum a-rum-pum-pum-pum Ooh yeah Dready got a job to do And he's got to fulfill that mission To see his hurt is their greatest ambition, yeah But-a we will survive in this world of competition 'Cause no matter what they do Natty keep on comin' through And no matter what they say-ay-ay-ay Natty de deh every day. yeah Natty Dread rides again Through the mystics of tomorrow Natty Dread rides again Have no fear, have no sorrow, yeah All and all you see but one Is to fight against Rastaman So they build their world in great confusion To force on us the devil's illusion But the stone that the builder refuse Shall be the head cornerstone And no matter what game they play Eh, we got something they could never take away We got something they could never take away And it's the fire (fire), it's the fire (fire) That's burning down everything Feel that fire (fire), the fire (fire) Only the birds have their wings, yeah No time to be deceived Oh, brothers, you should know and not believe Jah say this judgement - it could never be with water No water could put out this fire (fire) This fire (fire), this fire (fire) This fire (fire), a yaga y'all! Ride, Natty, ride! Go deh, Dready, go deh 'Cause now the fire is out of control Panic in the city, wicked weeping for their gold Everywhere this fiyah is burning Destroying and melting their gold Destroying and waisting their souls Go ride, Natty, ride! Go deh, Dready! Go deh! Tell you what: now the people gather on the beach And the leader try to make a speech But the Dreadies understandin' that it's too late Fire is burning Man, pull your own weight Fiyah is burning Man, pull your own weight Natty Dread rides again (Natty Dread rides again) And me say, Go deh, Dready! Go deh! (go deh, go deh) Oh ride, Natty, ride! (Dread rides again) And go deh, Dready! (Go deh, go deh) Ridin' through the storm Riding through the calm (go deh, go deh) Oh ride, Natty, ride Go deh, Dready, go deh Ride, Natty, ride Go deh, Dready, do deh

Stay here, brothers Stay here, brothers Groove y'all How many like the blues tonight? You got the time, baby I got the ride You got the time, baby I got the ride Where I want to go Keep you satisfied If you like it real slow I got days If you like it real slow I got days You want some good lovin', baby I know the way I know the way Bring me up, brother You got the time, baby I got the ride Where I want to go I got the ride You like to be alone I like to watch You like to be alone I like to watch You're ready for some good good kissin' and huggin' and uh I'll give you all I got I'll give you all I got, on the one, yeah You got the time, baby I got the ride

Pull the rag off the six-fo' Hit the switch, show niggas how the shit go The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone The D's is chrome, the frame is black (So watch it lift up) 'Til the motherfucker bounce and break And knock both of the screws out the licence plate Let the games begin These other rap niggas so far behind they can taste my rims Shit, let the chronic burn as the Daytons spin It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem In the club, poppin' X pills like M&Ms Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down (Put your 'cris up!) If you feel the same way Who got 'em hittin' switches NY to LA (If I could fit the whole hood in the club) Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back (I turn it into a strip-club) Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass (If I could sit the whole world in the club) Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch (Pop bottles and twist up) Roll up chronic and hash In a blunt, call it Aftermath Somebody tell me where the drinks at Where the bitches at You fucking on the first night, meet me in the back I got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks Move bitch! Who the fuck you think they came to see? The protégé of the D-R-E You take a picture with him, and you gotta fuck me And you gotta fuck Busta, can't touch Eve Got something in my waist that you can't touch either That's, my gangsta bitch, and like Crips and Bloods I'm in the club on some gangsta shit (So nigga twist up) Light another dub Bitches get scared when niggas start fighting in the club Ain't nothing but a g-thing, baby it's a g-thing Bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string I fuck a different bitch seven days a week Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat (If I could fit the whole hood in the club) Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back (I turn it into a strip-club) Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass (If I could sit the whole world in the club) Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch (Pop bottles and twist up) Roll up chronic and hash In a blunt, call it Aftermath Niggas thought I wasn't coming back, look at me now Hoppin' out the same Cherry six-fo' with the motherfucking top down I'm The Game, nigga Call your bitch, she ain't home, she with Game, nigga Remember that, Dre You passed me the torch I lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray Ridin' three-wheel motion 'til the ass scrapes Turn sunset into a motherfucking drag-race Now watch it bounce Hit the switch, let it bounce 'til the police shut the shit down (When you hit the club) Tell 'em you came with me (We gonna twist up) In the V.I.P It's a new day, and if you ever knew Dre Motherfucker, you would say I was the new Dre Same Impala, different spokes Same chronic, just a different smoke (If I could fit the whole hood in the club) Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back (I turn it into a strip-club) Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass (If I could sit the whole world in the club) Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch (Pop bottles and twist up) Roll up chronic and hash In a blunt, call it Aftermath