Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ghetto Gumbo (featuring JT The Bigga Figga, Coolio, and Dangerous Dame), artist - Coolio.
Date of issue: 18.12.2006
Song language: English
Ghetto Gumbo (featuring JT The Bigga Figga, Coolio, and Dangerous Dame) |
What’s happening playa, just sitting here, you know |
Putting together some of that ghetto gumbo, you know |
Some motherfucking gumbo? |
Yeah nigga, gum in the mother fuck bo |
Like that there? |
Yeah, I got my niggas in here, we finna put it down |
You know what I’m saying, real, real special |
You know? |
Check it out, like this here |
Verse1(Mac Dre) |
As I get to bustin' |
This introduction |
Of mind corruption |
And rhyme seduction |
I steal and fill brains |
With game and mo' thangs |
Like them dope thangs |
And what that hoe brang |
Creep on Crest streets |
Speak on fresh beats |
Hit the motel, and freak on fresh sheets |
And wet sheets, is the end result |
Been killing long cock since ten years old |
See I blend this old-game with this new |
And ain’t no telling what a bitch will do |
Now picture you |
In my position |
Steady getting sweated by the opposition |
Could you handle |
All this scandal |
And keep on stepping like boots and sandals |
My handle, is young Mac Dre |
Silky slim, is my A.K.A |
And you know that bay is my rompin' grounds |
I mean stompin' grounds |
But I like the way Rompin' sounds |
So I’ma keep it |
Romp related |
And if it ain’t down with the romp, I hate it |
Verse2(JT the Bigga Figga) |
Well let me jump into the pot with all the hustlers and players |
Chop potatoes with Phillie faders, Knocking niggas with Tre Eights |
But now I |
See my niggas at the spot with the session |
Illegal product |
Then people plotted, rotted with no confessions |
Smith and Wessons |
Demonstrations with Fully Autos, actin' |
Conversations at the lab to keep the trackers trackin' |
Double backin' to the spot where all the money filter |
Keep it on the down low |
You never tell about your scrilla |
On the reala |
I breaks it down in all directions |
It’s the Fillmoe players with the O |
And the Crest connection |
All in the session with my folks, You know they got the Dolo |
Hit the gateway tracks, like some fiends in a forward Volvo |
Bought a Bolo |
Seen Kelly, mashed off, and then we hollered |
Trailing Coolio and Mac Dre in a green Impala |
Getting cloudy |
The laboratorys just like a porny |
Got a patient |
Cousin Quinn is making the shit get saramani |
Hella fetti |
We ready, steady, with all the bumbles |
Keeping it real with Dangerous Dame and Mac Mall in this fucking gumbo |
Straight paper |
Straight fetti |
Straight gumbo |
Verse3(Dangerous Dame) |
Niggas we pull |
Niggas will say so |
We hit the strip from San Jose, to Vallejo |
Make more scrilla by the mouth piece |
Non-talking niggas don’t know shit about me |
Ignore 'em like bitches |
Respect |
There ain’t a hand out |
Like a sore thumb, fake niggas always stand out |
Player hater prayer |
Praying that I buckle everyday |
Ain’t worth five cents, or my knuckles to the face |
But my burners ain’t feeling no flesh |
If you niggas wanna test |
Let it jump and we could put the shit to rest |
You thinking deeply |
But I be on service like a shark |
Consider me that hate, but see I serve you from the heart |
'cause love loves me |
And hate loves me |
So what the fuck you think? |
You can’t fuck with me |
You paying dopefiends, to put 'em to work |
But now your money’s gettin' low |
While I be getting low with this wicked flow |
You got at me last night |
But I wasn’t asking who was bustin' the trigger |
I’m blowing big bomb smoke, yelling «Nothin' ass nigga» |
My pimping ain’t soft |
I’m taking no losses |
So why the hell do you persist to put me in crosses? |
You thought it was shackles, but then they was ropes |
And now they’re spider webs |
I broke on you hoes |
I know what you’re doing before you do it |
Got an outside plan, but in the end you’re looking stupid |
Huh, yeah |
'Cause Dangerous Dame got 'em riding on the freeway |
Actions speak louder |
I don’t fuck with he say-she say |
Think you got game? |
Never could you have it |
You niggas are crying wolf, while I’ll be fucking Jessica Rabbit |
Straight trading places |
But fool this ain’t no dream |
You was happy as hell when you had me under your infra red beam |
Once again, get low for the East O |
Add a little recipe to the gumbo |
Verse4(Da Unda Dogg) |
Add me |
Mix me up |
Stir me in the pot with these niggas that fix me up |
See, back in '91, Coolio was the shit |
So now we cooking a batch of gumbo and it ain’t gonna quit |
My nigga the Bigga Figga, adding that spice so fool it’s saucy |
You bitches thinking you’ll eat for free, well this shit is costly |
So back up off me |
And recognize the sound is poppin' |
Beause we steadily droppin' dope, like the keys you coppin' |
Mother fuckers, they get to actin foul |
When they know they can’t fuck with the style |
Smile punk mother fucker, sucka, hating bustas |
Ain’t no friends when it comes to ends, so you can not trust us |
But trust me |
You can not dust me, or try and bust me, dumbo |
Your ass gets heated in this pot of gumbo |