corrija a letra Letra Conflicted por Snoop Dogg

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If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n***as that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted
B*t*hes
East Coast n***as in six-fours hittin' switches (Sh*t)
It's not a conflict of interest
Cuh, them n***as with the business
West Coast n***as rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches
It's no difference

Neither one play games when swingin' for them fences
We want the finer things, the sh*t that's еxpensive
The sh*t that hit 'еm either close range or at a distance
If God for me, n***a, why bother?
I got my game from the Godfather (Woof)
Top of the food chain, rock bottom
And handled my business when it was my problem
G sh*t, n***a flossin' with a gold chain
I got my Turkish rope with matchin' gold fangs
Bomber jacker in the winter, it's a cold game
I met some East Coast n***as up in Spokane (What up?)
Some of the realest n***as in this dope game
I got my curly top, lookin' like Special Ed
Clean fade on the side, bumpin' that redhead
Clean tags when I ride, duckin' the fed-feds
East Coast n***as, they get that bread-bread
You f**k with them n***as, you end up dead-dead
Them West Coast n***as, they leave that lead spread
And now you got bullets all in your dread head
If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n***as that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted
B*t*hes
Still tryna f**k the riches
East Coast n***as in six-fours hittin' switches (Sh*t)
It's not a conflict of interest
Cuh, them n***as with the business
West Coast n***as rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches
It's no difference

Fourth and inches
I'm finna hit a lick and handle business
I got a down b*t*h, she real vicious
Rock-a-bye baby, no witness
This is not even a conflict
You n***as on nonsense
N***as die the same way in Brooklyn and Compton
But n***as with that gang-gang, them n***as make a profit
N***as on top, n***as stay poppin'
Look, see, I was the high school Slick Rick, I was stylin'
Fat gold chain with an African medallion
Hip-hop connoisseur and Rollin' 20 Crippin'
Rap game real tight, freestyle was magnificent
All about the clout and all about my dividends
Them older n***as couldn't tell me different
I need a 'round the way girl to let me stick it in
Showtime at the Apollo
I'm drinking OE up out the bottle
Take two swigs and pour out a little liquor for my n***as who won't live to see tomorrow
If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n***as that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted

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