Lyrics:
[Krayzie]
This track is tight you should be clapping your hands
[ clapping your hands] 4x
[chorus]
As we ride by the end of the night
You will
and Tamera
Two in the Four like the Porsche Panamera
Look in the mirror, look in the mirror
Vision clouded by the coke, ain't making it clearer
I make it
the trunk in two hands
tell me everything that's real
It feels real
V2 Reach across the side and tell
fo'
If you don't, dial four one one I got the info
Catch the tempo, bless ya mental, its quite simple
Step on stage, blow the speakers like a twelve
Drive by dans les hills
Dans un classe A
J'ai trop la classe
Alio
Allô
Orage est passé poto j'reste solo
Dans ma tête
Dans ma bulle
Y'a plus qu'oim dans
(schh) paire de (woah)
Drive-by, BM, double (woah)
Tout est (woah) c'est l'9-(woah)
Le Prince rafale sur le Roi
J'sors le (woah) tout le monde (woah)
Want me to nut just to have my kids!"
I can't give a bitch a ring
Like she rose out of sonic
Ironic, I'd probably be carnage if
I had a comic
I'm
Once upon a time in an obscure
Part of the Milky Way Galaxy
There was a spinning ball of water and
Rock ruled by the forces of evil
The Devil
fall die
Them niggaz they catch 'em slugs, fuckin around with the S-P-I
Hit the corner on a 3 wheel with a 4-5 by my side
Its a shame up in 90, niggaz
shaka day, I'm violent j, and I'm back like a
Vertebrae.
And I come with a hat full of tricks,
Trunk full of faygo, car full of fat chicks.
Ha ha-ha
Loneliness was all she knew,
Because of her God sent beauty.
Evil and carnage were sure to ensure,
Her death was Conchobars duty.
The high king
got four bitches with me, no need to look twice
Throw rice at my feet, rose petals, Malaysian sort
I smoked two Cuban cigars and a Newport
An ounce
bitch that's foreign
Fuck my other bitch she borin'
My gold twenty- four karats
If it ain't a nigga won't wear it
Tell her roll your own weed I ain't
though but now
They stop and stare
I'm fresh to the death dressed
Like a million bucks
Eyes Chinese smelling like a million blunts
4 zips up in
of bud
With ya drop-top, six-four rollin' on dubs
Be bangin' in the trunk when
I'm out in the club
Ain't got no rigs to chain
Cause ya keeps it hood
I'ma tell you once nigga I don't talk twice
If you get down bad wit me
Nigga you gone loose yo life
I'm the real Uptown Nigga 4 Life
And if I killed
reality drunk
The two by fours and three by fours the six by nine
I'm pushing the grind I'm putting the time up
So you get yours while I get mine
Zombie Juice
Spitting shit, disfigured like ligaments
Picture the making of this, my hands tied
Watch the smoke flow by, by, bye bye
On the porch,
accused
I leave ya funky
I put my trunk-y
Hair by a monkey
So what ya self cuz I'm down to act a donkey
In the N.O. town, jackers 3, 4 deep
Put ya sleep if
really hot
I'm swanging four's and thinking thoed, banging hoes and changing clothes
Smoking dro and doing shows, paper stack can never fold
I bought
a superstar choppin rocks on your block
Representin Shortstop!
Sellin rocks oh see four point gold
Shortstop double platinum SOLD!
Tell my
and the mustangs
Code name Nelly got messages on the tele
By Lisa, Tomika, Angela, Rachel, and Sister Shelly
Oh really, you say some of these names might ring
coming out the pulpit
Yeah, Truth pull up in that white thing
Four choppas and the trunk full of white things
If it ain't ten or better, I be out your
Illest in the game, GED with the flame (Q)
First off, let me get this shit cleared
Any nigga talk, prolly get his shit smeared
Back in the trunk, next
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