Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Red Hot Riplets, artist - Murphy Lee.
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Red Hot Riplets |
Uh, uh, uh, uh |
I’m automatical, infatical, radical even |
I wanna clearr all the misconceptions and shit ya believe in |
I’m leavin' nothin' to the imagination |
I won’t stop on my Emancipation Proclamation |
Through the radio stations |
Facin' me, ain’t that hard but it ain’t that easy |
Like I don’t know when to play hard and when to play easy |
Believe me, George and Weezie couldn’t move up this fast |
I’m lappin' errybody can’t tell if I’m first or last |
It won’t hurt ya ass, but it might hurt yo ass |
To come trippin', find derrty got the perfect stash |
The perfect gat, left in ya ass thought I would run |
Laughin' at them niggas who thought derrty was done |
I’m a, son a g, I’m not a son of bitch |
I’m makin' sure that my son and my sons gon be rich |
Daughters and my daughters in no particular order |
I leave em layin up out the water wit straps to protect they ball up |
Cuz I call it |
I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?) |
Wit my red hot riplets |
(Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man) |
You all that and a bag of chips |
And I just wanna know if me and you can dip |
That’s all |
Baby girl you sweeter than Kool-Aid, the red flavor |
«Ooh that’s my favorite», yeah I know my game is major |
She gave me her card, she said I can page her |
I was gon wait a couple of days but I did her a favor |
Call her now, invite myself awake the neighbors |
Beatin' loud, swoopin' like a caped crusader |
Without the cape, without the tights |
Her baby daddy was the type to have a truck like mine |
No beach rims, no door pipes |
Of course that, I love her apple bottom short set |
She got upset, I said she couldn’t fire up a cigarette |
Small brat, ain’t used to cats wit short stacks |
If you ask me for summin, drop her off where the porch at |
I’m on a mission, turn the keys in the ignition |
Beat steady, beatin' Tweeter steady whistlin' |
She’s seen my glisten, started to trip |
Murph, she’s all that and a bag of chips |
I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?) |
Wit my red hot riplets |
(Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man) |
You all that and a bag of chips |
And I just wanna know if me and you can dip |
That’s all |
Look, I want some mushu whether I’m in Cali or Cancun |
No goin' out, I like to stay in my damn room |
(Damn!) She got a donkey-o, this must be a damn zoo |
(Ooh!) Look at the monkey yo, she must be a baboon! |
Please don’t feed me mama I’m like an animal |
Especially after 12, can you handle my stamina? |
You won’t believe the things I say when you walk by |
My game cool but when it’s on but it’s hot when I talk high |
Now ought I, take you home but am I wrong |
I’m a kid ma, you know I don’t wanna be Home Alone |
Plus I felt summin therre when we was dancin' on that song |
I like togetherness, can we all get along? |
Can we all, get in my car and talk about it in the morn' |
And make decisions when wake up and yawn |
Come on, you can tell me if you like it or not |
Cuz I’ma have my Kool-Aid and my riplets red hot |
I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?) |
Wit my red hot riplets |
(Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man) |
You all that and a bag of chips |
And I just wanna know if me and you can dip |
That’s all |
Yo, yo, them muthafuckas just too damn hot |
Nigga like the pie in the window |
Cross the gun line and even get shot to find the indo |
Eatin' red hot, riplets promotin' passin' out snippets |
Seen you walkin' wit the triplets, I’m clubbin lookin' terrific |
I need some Kool-Aid, shiit I got to get it wit it |
Put my spoon up in ya pitcher see if it fit up in it |
(And) smoke for a second (And) told her I’ll wreck it |
Told her groupie connection, got in the room and told her get naked |
Told the Lunatics, told her how I reflect it |
Lemme show you from the Show-Me, no talk fo sho respect it |
And ya red hot, butt and now ya say ya hearin' not |
It’s the rap Fred Flintstone, I makin' the Bed Rock |
I give it to ya never failin ya, handlin' business I’m tellin' ya |
You ever need me again I’ma be through in on my celluar |
And I’ma store y’all never on the red hot riplets and Kool-Aid |
(Kool-Aid!).I need my money nigga. |