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Artist: DJ Quik 
Album:  The Book of David
Song:   Ghetto Rendezvous
Typed by:

I guess it's time for another
Aw, look at what you motherfuckers done went and did
Y'all done pissed me off
Yeah waddup, sis? I hear you out there!
You know you done fucked up.. I'm glad y'all set it off

[DJ Quik]
You prob'ly mad cause you can't eat off me no mo'
Don't wanna hear you cryin or offer you no dough
..You tried to make my life shabby
with the Zodiac sign of the Cancer, you crabby
Heh-heh, plus you got away with murder twice
NICE -- just like that nigga that's on thin ice now
           (I think it's time for another ghetto ren-dez-vous)
I hate you so much, it just shows
I hate you more than Michael hated Joe
And your son looks like a fuckin Al-Qaeda
I'ma call him Wop Daddy cause his chin is to the side, yo..
Now that's the mark of the beast
You had a Damien in 1977 to say the least
Your house is full of mold, body full of yeast
I bet you bakin a loaf of bread down between your cheeks
You stanky lil' rodent, yeah bitch you're molded
You'll NEVER see your brother, that's why your lungs corroded
Emphysema all in 'em
You cain't hurt nobody, ain't no toxins in your venom
You're just a grandmomma in denim
Lookin for some little kids to put soem shit up in 'em
       (Maybe it's time for another ghetto ren-dez-vous)
The problem is you ain't had no fuckin loyalty
And the only thing you wanted was my royalties
You stole a car AND a bike from me
Lookin back, I was the caretaker of a dummy
And that husband of yours, you dumb witch
Was still a husband of hers, you stupid bitch
You never acted your age
You only came to embarrass me out in public for days
That's why a little clarity pays
You got the boot, now I'm chippin like Frito-Lays
Rest in peace to my niece, at least 
when she was lyin in state, she had a grin to her mouthpiece
Now what that tell you about you?
You disturbed to the curb and it's better without you
       (I'm comin strapped to another ghetto ren-dez-vous)

Fat boy, you know you really been dumbin
Goin over Pee-Wee house showin off your triple stomach
...with a strap in your waist
Now what you gon' do when you see my face? I doubt it
I'm tired of playin with you cocka-roaches
I gave you bitches life trust and you stupids broke it
Cause you a motherfuckin sex offender
Put some honey on your dick and put it in a blender
They caught you fuckin on your sister's daughter
That some incestual shit, get the holy water
Compton Alumni, a no go
Nigga you really from Paso Robles
Upstate in Y.A. with your homeboys
Cheeking each other butts making no noise
        (I'm takin off when I hit the ghetto ren-dez-vous)
If I bought you equipment and you sold it, that's on you
Help you get into a home and you lose it, that's on you
You niggaz actin like babies
You feel entitled to another man's money, that's crazy
More like insane, schizophrenia
Struggles with love and money, happiness you get plenty of
While I'm stayin fly, like LaGuardia
I'm a guardian, I'm the auditor
I'm the flyiest emcee you've ever heard
on a Norman microphone, motherfucker that's word
Now gimme the mic and let me be heard
Cause I'll be quittin shortly, I am the shep-herd
Now what you know about my lyrics and style?
I got a Cleco backwash fly spit, we wild
           (I think it's time for another ghetto ren-dez-vous)