Dr. Dre - As the World Keeps Turning Lyrics

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Dr. Dre's "As the World Keeps Turning" was released on November 16, 1999, as part of his album 2001. The track features a compelling blend of rhythmic beats and introspective lyrics, showcasing Dre's ability to address social issues and personal struggles. Co-written by Dr. Dre, "As the World Keeps Turning" reflects on the ever-changing nature of life and the challenges that come with it, emphasizing resilience and perseverance. The song’s engaging production and thought-provoking themes make it a significant addition to the album, highlighting Dre's artistry and relevance in the hip-hop landscape.

Song lyrics

As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


I flow like CDs in the deck

Moosh fools in the face that lack respect

Protect ya arm, pitch from the funk

I deodorize the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust G

So leave me alone I'm in the zone

Walking the streets on my own, nigga get blown

Some niggas say that nigga Where is gone

But I'm low in the cut and gotta microphone

Are you gone bust or play bones?

You motherfuckin' clone, get off that nigga's style and get you own

It's Miscellane and it's on again

For the niggas that slept, they shoulda stayed in step

And kept ya big fuckin' mouth shut


As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache

Advil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrong

My world is gone like disco

Blowing up Cisco and in my Cammo

Standing in back of me was my soul

Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll

Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold

A tar can of hoes to lubricate my system quick

Shaky bitches off the dick

'Cause she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips

I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools

Show me the one talking shit so I can drop a fool

I'm out to glow a nigga roll if he think he Mr Cream

Come back on the scene and smoke a phillie, G

I really dream of getting mine now let me tell you what's silly

Me, bucking with my team is murder one

I heard a gun busting shots (shots!), down the block (block!)

I guess a nigga getting what he got (got!)

Shit is heavy like a medicine ball and broke niggas to smoke niggas

I'll fuck one for y'all, they made ya last phone call

To a trick that didn't even care

'Cause she was getting fucked somewhere, you're stuck in there

Now 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 real


As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


I'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temper

And I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes

Let's take it back to the first side

When you was a new jack and jocking my new track

But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long

Head-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yard

With a teenage group I'm turning loots to tracks

Me and my niggas like

(These tracks are laced with bomb weed and tight lyrics)

You wanna know what the hoes used to do

When me and my crew came busting through

All sorts of blushings brew

(A neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, Miscellane is the crew)

Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue

This is for the bitches and niggas that wanna front

I smoke on, I broke on till I spoke on

Miscellane packing shows like Farrakhan

Where is on another level with two niggas that's on the same plateau

Now that's three times your tightest flow

And three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sack

Three times is clever (buck!)


As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


As the world keeps turning

Chronic keeps burning

(This ain't no) street sermon

These niggas are determined


Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt

Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt

To art in hell, where the next man dwells

The place with stinking pussy and crack rock dwells

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