It started with a high-pitched synth whine that sounded like a tea kettle from another dimension. You know the one. It’s the "P-Funk" squiggle that defined an entire era of Southern California culture. When Snoop Dogg lazily drawled, "One, two, three and to the four," he wasn’t just starting a verse. He was announcing a regime change. The song, of course, is "Nuthin’ but a 'G' Thang," and that specific hook—it’s like this and like that—became more than just a catchy lyric. It became a cultural shorthand for the effortless, laid-back bravado of 1990s G-Funk.
People forget how high the stakes were in 1992. Dr. Dre had just acrimoniously split from N.W.A. and Eazy-E. He had everything to lose. If The Chronic failed, Dre was a footnote. Instead, he found a skinny kid from Long Beach named Calvin Broadus and changed the sonic landscape of the world. Honestly, it’s wild to think that a song about basically nothing—just chilling, sipping on juice, and cruising—could carry so much weight. But that’s the magic of the G-Funk era. It wasn’t about the struggle; it was about the vibe.
The Leon Haywood Connection and the Birth of a Hook
If you want to understand why it’s like this and like that feels so familiar, you have to look at 1975. Dr. Dre is arguably the greatest "ear" in music history, and he dug up a track by Leon Haywood called "I Want'a Do Something Freaky to You."
Listen to the original Haywood track. The bassline is identical. The groove is there. But Dre stripped away the 70s clutter and polished the rhythm until it shone like a lowrider’s chrome bumper. The phrase "it's like this and like that and like this and uh" wasn’t actually in the Haywood song, though. That was the chemistry between Snoop and Dre in the studio. It was improvisational. It was conversational. It felt like two friends talking over a beat, which is exactly why it resonated.
Most people think rap back then was all about aggression because of the "gangsta" label. This song proved otherwise. It was smooth. It was melodic. It was something you could play at a backyard BBQ in Compton or a frat house in Ohio. That universal appeal is what pushed The Chronic to triple platinum status.
Why the Simplest Lyrics Won
Sometimes, the most profound things are the simplest. When Snoop says it's like this and like that, he’s essentially saying "it is what it is." It’s an acceptance of the lifestyle.
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There’s no complex metaphor here. There are no double-entendre riddles like you’d find in a New York lyricist’s notebook at the time. It’s pure atmosphere. The lyrics were actually written partly by The D.O.C., who was a ghostwriter for many of the tracks on the album after his own voice was damaged in a car accident. Even with a ghostwriter, the delivery was all Snoop. He brought a jazz-like cadence to the West Coast.
- It wasn't just about the words.
- It was the space between the words.
- The "uh" at the end of the phrase acted as a percussion element.
The Cultural Ripple Effect of G-Funk
The impact of this single song is hard to overstate. Before this, the "West Coast sound" was often associated with the high-speed, electro-hop beats of the early 80s or the raw, distorted anger of Straight Outta Compton. It's like this and like that introduced a slower tempo. We call it "laid back" for a reason.
The BPM dropped. The bass got heavier. This changed how people drove. Seriously. The rise of hydraulic lowriders in mainstream media is directly tied to the rhythm of G-Funk. You can’t "bounce" a car to a 140 BPM techno track, but you can definitely do it to the 95 BPM thud of a Dr. Dre production.
Real-World Influence on Modern Artists
You see the fingerprints of this style everywhere today. Think about Kendrick Lamar’s "King Kunta" or "Wesley’s Theory." The heavy emphasis on the "one" in the beat and the use of live-sounding synths? That’s the Dre blueprint. Kendrick has openly cited The Chronic as the album that made him want to rap.
Even outside of hip-hop, the "California aesthetic"—that specific blend of sunshine and underlying menace—is rooted in this track. It’s the contrast. The music sounds like a pool party, but the lyrics remind you that you’re in a volatile environment.
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The Misconceptions About the "G-Thang" Era
One thing people get wrong is thinking this was "easy" music to make. Just because it sounds relaxed doesn't mean it was lazy. Dr. Dre is notoriously a perfectionist. There are stories of him making Snoop record a single line dozens of times just to get the "chill" factor right.
It’s an irony of the genre: you have to work incredibly hard to sound like you aren't trying at all.
Another myth is that this song was purely about promoting violence. If you actually look at the "Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang" music video, it's mostly about a picnic. There’s a volleyball game. There are ribs on the grill. It was a humanizing moment for a community that the media, at the time, only portrayed through the lens of the 1992 L.A. Riots. It showed that even in the midst of "this and that," there was a sense of neighborhood and joy.
How to Capture the G-Funk Vibe Today
If you’re a creator or a music fan looking to tap into that specific "it's like this and like that" energy, it’s about the "pocket." In musical terms, the pocket is the space where the beat feels most comfortable.
- Slow it down. Most modern trap is fast and twitchy. G-Funk breathes.
- Focus on the "One." The first beat of every measure should be heavy enough to feel in your chest.
- Use analog-style synths. Look for VSTs that emulate the Moog or the ARP Odyssey. That "whine" is essential.
- Keep the vocals conversational. Don't shout. Snoop succeeded because he sounded like he was whispering a secret to you while leaning against a wall.
The Legacy of the Phrase
"It's like this and like that" has been sampled, quoted, and parodied a thousand times. It’s appeared in everything from Saturday Night Live sketches to high-end fashion marketing. It represents a moment in time when the West Coast officially took the crown in the hip-hop world.
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It wasn't just a song. It was a vibe shift.
The track eventually hit number two on the Billboard Hot 100. For a "gangsta" rap song in the early 90s, that was unheard of. It paved the way for the legalization of the genre in the eyes of corporate America, for better or worse. It made Snoop Dogg a household name before he was even thirty years old.
Actionable Takeaways for Music History Buffs
To truly appreciate the technical mastery of this era, go back and listen to the source material.
Start by listening to Leon Haywood's "I Want'a Do Something Freaky to You" on high-quality headphones. Notice the string arrangements. Then, immediately switch to "Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang." Observe how Dre muted certain frequencies to allow the bass to dominate.
If you're a producer, try recreatng that "worm" synth lead. It’s usually a single-oscillator sawtooth wave with a lot of portamento (sliding between notes). Understanding how that one sound came to define a decade provides a masterclass in branding through audio.
Finally, recognize the cultural weight. This music was the soundtrack to a post-uprising Los Angeles. It provided a sense of identity to a generation. When things are "like this and like that," it means life is moving forward, regardless of the chaos around it. Keep that perspective when you're looking at how music influences social movements today.