Whatchallwannado

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Mr. Pookie

Mr. Pookie (born Bryan Jones on March 27, 1978) is an American rapper from the "Dirty South" of Dallas, TX. He is most notable for having the biggest-selling (according to Soundscan) independent rap album from Dallas thus far, 1999’s Tha Rippla. Mr. Pookie records both individually and with his rap partner Jeron Gibson, or Mr. Lucci, with whom he also co-owns their labels, Crawl 2 Ball Records, which is now Stoney Crook Recordz and the music publishing company/production house Stoney Crook Music. Jones attended L.V. Berkner High School, where he was later kicked out at 11th grade in Richardson, Texas. Also has ties with Southside Reggie more »

Year:

1999

4:09

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[mr. pookie]
Jus anotha day, chiffin hay, in north dallas
See-pone jus called me up, now I'm about to hit tha shower
Took me bout an hour, and now I'm creased down in my polo
I'm makin these niggaz hate today, by wearin a crooked logo
Watch out for tha blow hoe, and leavin you bitches in tha mist
And if you niggaz don't trip on me, then I won't bust yo shit
Plus my click be tha ruffest, not sayin we tha toughest
But stoneycrook niggaz, been known to come out wit tha ruckus
F*ck you who say f*ck us, and all y'all niggaz who be hatin'
Cappin, cause you can't fade me, runnin up on me daily
But baby, it's mo' complicated, than you can see
Words lose all meanin', when niggaz see niggaz gleamin'
So don't you even think that you can get outta this
So bitch, to get me to this point, you must really got me pissed
I'm twist and dismember, choppin down nigga timber
Kodac moment remember, this crooked nigga a rippla

Chorus [x2]

Whatchallwannado? if you trip, then we bomb first
Pull out tha guns first, chiff until I lungs hurt
I know bombin', but tha rippla finna bomb worse
Look at us come first, best believe be bomb worse

[mr. lucci]
Welcome to tha wild, wild west, tha southside, it's me, a killa
F*ck billy tha kid nigga, it's lucci tha wig splitta
Like tyson a hard hitta, toe tag deala
A brain spilla, body chilla, mind thrilla, f*ck it, killa
On tha grind for my scrilla, rhymin' hard, workin strong
Chiffin smoke up in my long, still my whole bag gon
I live long, for doin wrong, cause wit my crooks, man it's on
Leave a nigga dome blown, or up shit creek, all alone
For bumpin his grill, he must thought he was go cheat one, 4 real
Now he killed, 6 feet he feel, surrounded by mob skillz
Crooked is as crooked does, like crooked thugs
And crooked hugs and crooked slugs and crooked luv
It ain't neva enuff, until I whip it out my holsta
Cocked back ready to roast ya, on every wanted poster
Stayin' high like a vulture, inflictin' pain from smoke
Those crooked soljaz smokin, let tha coroner dispose ya

Chorus [x2]

[c-pone]
I been quick to cause a tragedy, fuckin wit my faculty
Bullets sprayed rapidly, now they died from my fatality
F*ck those who try to battle me, this rap shit is a mastery
Bomb viciously, leavin tha whole scene full of catastrophes
Hollow my calvary, when I feel danger in tha mist
Now I'm pissed, wit a clutched fist
Around they ashton and my 45th
No mo lift, in these shady niggaz in fleets
We be deadlier than a weed blunt dipped in phaldahyde and morphine
Sparklin' clean up through tha industry
Lyrics at yo weak feet, they notice me
Due to my unique style of texas poetry
Blowin these, wack mc's, who refuse to give our props
Platinum hitz from tha stoneycrook click, til we all sittin on top
When tha rippla drop, best believe we comin wit bombs
Turnin' yo average house party, into a modern day vietnam
Run up if you want some, we clash like titans
Ain't no collaboration deadlier than stoneycrook and I come

Chorus [x2]

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