Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Marinatin' , by - Ras Kass. Song from the album Soul On Ice, in the genre ПопRelease date: 31.12.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Priority
Song language: English
Marinatin' |
| We could marinate, get nice and and stack riches |
| (But it’s B.Y.O.B.) Bring your own bud, brew, and bitches |
| Ain’t no set trippin', actin' ill and don’t steal, for real |
| (You got’s to chill) |
| I woke up in my Tommy Hilfiger boxers at 10 |
| From a knock at the door, but why they at my door for? |
| Oh, my peeps they got a half gallon, smiling |
| My talons totaled ten one empty round from putting it down |
| But now, my day is starting off Coca Cola and Remy Martin |
| Some of the homeys from L.A. and Carson want to throw a private party today |
| Threw on some Gautier and my Rolex link dressed to kill like Bernhard Goetz |
| My squad flex like Lee Haney |
| So it’s best I keeps myself on house arrest, 'cause never know, maybe |
| They might wind up in 429 Bauchet, locked away |
| Plus can’t keep the booty calls waiting, I’m marinating |
| We could marinate, get nice and and stack riches |
| (But it’s B.Y.O.B.) Bring your own bud, brew, and bitches |
| Ain’t no set trippin', actin' ill and don’t steal, for real |
| (You got’s to chill) |
| Dialed up some micehead to see what’s crackin' tonight |
| She said she just broke up with her man |
| And since she free like Mandela, she bringin' a box of Philly pantellas |
| A capella, I got game like Lou Piniella made sure to tell her |
| Don’t bring no fellas, cherral, girl you can braid the tweed |
| And then you can show me how to do the pepper seed |
| Agreed, 'cause we get down like this on a regular, loungin' |
| Watchin' bootleged tapes, shooting jokes, your choice of imported smokes |
| Craps and cee-lo on the patio for more chips than bingo |
| Chips like the MGM casino |
| Just make sure your homegirls is single, so it’s popping |
| 'Cause ain’t nothing worse than fifth wheels that’s cockblocking |
| And knocking while I’m knocking talking about she ret' to go |
| I want some of your brown sugar while I bump D’Angelo |
| (Fo'sho) No special holiday, but sometimes just being alive is a reason for |
| celebratin' |
| So we mariniatin' |
| We could marinate, get nice and and stack riches |
| (But it’s B.Y.O.B.) Bring your own bud, brew, and bitches |
| Ain’t no set trippin', actin' ill and don’t steal, for real |
| (You got’s to chill) |
| I get around like Dolby Pro Logic |
| But running them streets too much get fools hated, incarcerated, or terminated |
| At the house we safely intoxicated, Nonoxynol-9 lubricated |
| Playing questions, everybody faded and now |
| We got the ladies undressing like 1st King strippers |
| Bouncin' on niggas balls like the LA Clippers |
| The phone rang, my little shorty said «What you up to, boo?» |
| Nothing, just chillin' like Bruh-Man on Martin do |
| See only when I’m tipsy, when my words start slurring |
| Do I get caught telling lies like Mark Fuhrman, so I’ll call you later |
| Drink was low, went to the stash and pulled out the XO |
| The T.U.'s is down for whatever |
| Let’s run more trains than the Metrorail |
| But y’all got to be out by two |
| I’m getting sleepy and plus my boo is coming through |
| So let the front door hit you where Ru Paul probably might |
| And everybody asking what’s up for tomorrow night |
| We could marinate, get nice and and stack riches |
| (But it’s B.Y.O.B.) Bring your own bud, brew, and bitches |
| Ain’t no set trippin', actin' ill and don’t steal, for real |
| (You got’s to chill) |