Lyrics:
set it, just checkin your mic
Droppin hot shit I like
So throw up your hands bitch, run your ice
Cause I'll go third, and he'll go fourth
By
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
couldn't afford a TV Dinner
But now I roll around in a DB-7
Throwin' up the two, to the hoes and pimps
It's all about the money, you know what I'm gettin'
tourrettes
Make you switch, make a bitch get undressed
Make people in the club wanna dance chest to chest
Bruised falcon, strive for perfection like malcolm
listeners relate
Let's put the beat back in, 6, 7, 8
This is the end of Opportunities
1 album, 2 album, is there a 3rd please
This bitch is going off again
rapping the gangsta shit this nigga goes hard, plex
(Chorus - 4x)
Plex, time to have plex
Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta from the barrel of me tech
[Z-Ro]
Rolling by my
the poor
And after all you can say you saw
Cypress Hill, stompin once more
I play it by ear, I love to steer
The fifty-seven Bel Air from here to there
and the beer that makes Luda keep rappin'
But no pork on my fork, I don't even speak pig Latin
I go fishin' on my lake, with yo' bitch as the bait
Plus I eat
ranger
And if I don't got it with me on DECK
Your gettin CUT like a
Las Vegas' card player
And I ain't playing with you at all bitch
I ain't a dog trainer
the payment
All these little rapper come and go, I wonder where they went
Ten years and runnin', we came up from the basement
(You are watching a master–)
Hell yeah nigga, ay yo
[Z-Ro:]
Remember me, when I use to write my rhymes in class
At Dick Dall Middle School, all them niggaz would laugh
Z-Ro Lyrics
Mo City Don Lyrics
(*talking*)
Shit, Z-Ro the Crooked, I know y'all
Been waiting on this here, yeah shit
R.I.P. Big Mello, Screw,
even up my sleeve
A million albums sold and it's hard to believe
Well it's true homeboy, it's not a lie
I used to sell tapes on Sunnyside
I used
See if we can kill your amnesia by the time I leave
All mommies I harbor for vouch for me
Tell 'em bout the time all your mommas couch mommy
All
than a bachelor pad
We’re here to take our city back - capture the flag
Setting next year’s fads, y’all still rappin’ ‘bout swag
Get your album shrink
Yeah play times over mutha phuckaz
Spice 1's defiantly in muthafuckin' effect.
You know what I'm saying?
Bringing it to all you bitch ass
men
I never been a hater
Hatin ain't where it's at
My finger where the seven and
A half karats at
You ain't even gotta wonder what
The women starin
I don't bother nobody I pop my shit
Early morning I'm smoking cause bitch I'm Brick
Nineteen years old but I'm ten years down for this shit
Vegas Strip
Judged by twelve, but oh well
If controversy sells
I'm about to clock a grip (whoo)
Do the math and count the
Months in a year nigga
Gave your
Don't fuck with that boy, don't play with that boy, he's out of his mind
24 hours 7 days of the week been out of my grind (PUT ME ON!)
So high in
Well, that was the album
I hope it wasn't too disappointing
Mm, Before I go
I got one more thing
God rays in my whip look real good on yo' bitch
God
the recession, then we formed the fuckin' team
F-U-N-K-V-O-L-U-M-E, nigga
Seven years into this shit, somehow we're only gettin' bigger
And we're just now gonna
Fourteen years after
And I still feel ten
But fourteen years later
The albums a ten
I'm doing my best
Cyclical
Cyclical
Cyclical
Cyclical
Fourteen years
rappin' on the mic talkin' shit about a bitch
I'll retire 10 times and I'll still be here
My old records sell about a half a mil' a year
I say "bitch get
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