| Ohh. |
| steppin up in my motherfuckin uhh.
|
| Chuck Taylors, Knick kickers, Wallabee’s
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| On my ass I got the umm. |
| um. |
| khakis, 501's
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| On my back I got the uhh. |
| sweatshirt
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| You know, with the fat three creases
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| Uhh, my t-shirt, Slingshot, uhh. |
| khaki shirt
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| Umm, and I got the Cake cutter in my—in my pocket
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| Uhh, got the afro, the braids
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| Motherfuckin uhh, rollers
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| «You got to believe in somethin»
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| And I just ask my motherfuckin self, uhh
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| «Why not believe in me?»
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| To G or not to G, is the question
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| And like Smith told Wesson
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| I’m shady with the .380 old school diploma
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| I’ll leave that ass in a coma, so
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| If you got a herringbone, Welcome to the Terrordome
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| Two-eleven, sorry Reverend
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| Oh my god, gettin robbed
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| Reach for the smog, «Atomic Dog»
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| Hard to swallow, janky as Rollo
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| Count to ten, and don’t try to follow
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| Cause just like Waco, I can take fo'
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| ATF, to they death
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| Bust a left on Western, go and get a room
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| Don’t want to be a felon like Stacey Koon
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| Get the right bitch, hit the light switch, here we go
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| Tap that ass like this — really doe
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| «You got to believe, somethin.»
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| West Side Lynch Mob
|
| «I got to believe in me.»
|
| Cause I’m a motherfuckin G
|
| Cause I’m a mother-fuckin.
|
| («And who the fuck are you?»)
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| Thirty in a holdin tank, catch the vapors
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| Make me a pillow out of toilet paper
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| Concrete bench kickin' off the hemorrhoids;
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| Eses deep, don’t fuck with dem boys
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| Phone check, collect call from the baller
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| Her mama said please don’t call her
|
| Do-Wah-Diddy, far from New Jack City
|
| Seen one of my peers, «What the fuck you doin in here?»
|
| He said, «One-eighty-seven on the enemy
|
| And they treat me like I just shot a Kennedy!»
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| Deputy bitch thinks she’s the Queen Bee
|
| Ink on my thumb, index, and pinky
|
| «Sir, what set you from?» |
| Play dumb
|
| «General popu-la-tion»
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| Mama put your house up, and I can bounce up
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| Out this motherfucker, that’s why I love ya
|
| Out like a boss, with a half-pint of sauce
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| Got the shit sewed up like Betsy Ross
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| What a friend know? |
| Buy some indo
|
| Never fuck with a silly ho — really doe
|
| «You got to believe, somethin.»
|
| West Side Lynch Mob
|
| «I got to believe in me.»
|
| Cause I’m a motherfuckin G
|
| Cause I’m a mother-fuckin.
|
| («And who the fuck are you?»)
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| Knock you out like NyQuil, I’ll kill you quick
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| You sucker-for-love-ass trick
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| So don’t run up, wit ya gun up
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| Cause I got the back breaker, double pump rump shaker
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| Cause we can play hookie in the Aqua Boogie
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| With concrete Nikes, ya gets no stripes
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| Livin unforgiven with the mic on
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| And punks runnin like roaches with the light on
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| And that’s all the shit I’m startin
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| Bust a cap (ka-kow-POW) like Jerome on Martin
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| You lookin for a punk with benefits
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| Cause you got a baby, that take many shits
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| And you know I got a grip like a baby on a tit
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| Scopin', hopin', thighs open
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| But I kick back, six-pack, and hit the Phillie slow
|
| Hooker ho — really doe
|
| «You got to believe, somethin.»
|
| West Side Lynch Mob
|
| «I got to believe in me.»
|
| Cause I’m a motherfuckin G
|
| Cause I’m a mother-fuckin.
|
| («And who the fuck are you?»)
|
| «You got to believe, somethin.»
|
| West Side Lynch Mob
|
| «I got to believe in me.»
|
| Cause I’m a motherfuckin G
|
| Cause I’m a mother-fuckin.
|
| («And who the fuck are you?») |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Really Doe, artist - Ice Cube. Album song Lethal Injection, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп