Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Oops!, artist - Bill Cosby. Date of issue: 29.06.1975
Song language: English
Oops! |
| I pop some Percocets |
| Then I pop some Xanax |
| Sitting back, strapped, cocked |
| Plotting on your man next |
| Jack a nigga for his work |
| And stretch it like some Spandex |
| He hesitate, I spray and leave him |
| Like a Tampex — oops, I meant a Tampax |
| Bitch, I keep that anthrax |
| I can get your man wacked, for a couple Tan packs |
| Shoot off your Sedan lap |
| Nigga, I demand stacks |
| I ain’t playing, black |
| Bitch, I be spraying Macks |
| All type of guns with accessories |
| I’m like Cosby for the bills |
| I need mills like Stephanie |
| Pussy niggas can’t stand next to me |
| I’ve got dope and ecstasy |
| Keep em floating like both of the levees breached |
| 80s baby but my soul from the 70s |
| Worldwide game like a travelled the 7 seas |
| Niggas ain’t OG, scary lil bitch, please |
| Tune ate pussy in the can. |
| Frisky |
| I got 10 up on my pinky ring and 20 on my bracelet |
| Now these niggas kissing ass, but they can’t say shit |
| I’m just here to separate the real from the fake shit |
| I told you, I was coming n I’m sorry for the wait |
| I gotta get this money |
| Mane, it’s right here in my face |
| I got the Devil on my back |
| I don’t wanna be up in that place |
| My mom tell me to be safe |
| I just keep running in these streets |
| I can’t stop fuckin with these hoes |
| But I say I’m just doing me |
| Bitch, I’m a 9th Ward nigga |
| Mason street, D&G |
| That Flordia right by the D they need to free my nigga B |
| I ain’t the type of person to be running from no beef |
| Those fucking guns are gonna be bursting |
| Somebody knocked off their feet |
| So watch your fucking mouth |
| Before you end up on that floor and stop |
| Acting like you’re hard cause |
| You know you’ve been a ho |
| I told you out the gate I’m not the fake |
| I gotta say it, please excuse |
| Almost forgot I’m all Dizzy by the way |
| Money over bitches, bitch I’m coming for the check |
| Vampire living, bitch I’m coming for your neck |
| Raw! |
| I’m sharp, my swagger like an X |
| I’m a motherfucking monster |
| I rap like I’m possessed |
| Call me Mr. Still Smoking, smoke it in a paper |
| The game is a bitch, hold her down and rape her |
| Yes I am a Blood but I be wylin' with my skaters |
| We probably smoking flavors bumping Tyler the Creator |
| I’m a Eastside native, all my niggas Soo Woopin' |
| They went crazy when they heard I had a song |
| With Lil Tunechi, bitch! |
| Get some ice and pour my Sprite |
| And light my bong and my doobies |
| Fuck your producer |
| I’m the one that be producing my music |
| I’m a hippie surrounded by a lot of pot |
| Pot is in me |
| Drop ya like an Otterbox |
| Sleeping on me like I’m rapping with a blanket |
| Kill a nigga have him thinking that he planking |
| All-red plaid shirt, skinny ass jeans on |
| Them goons at your front door, choppers out: «ding dong!» |
| Didn’t I change the game and put my motherfucking team on |
| Now let my chopper ring |
| «Baka!» |
| is my ringtone |
| Fuck you ho-ass niggas, I get money and get over hoes |
| We hold court with them heaters |
| «Pop!» |
| case open/closed |
| Looking for a bitch to hop up on my totem pole |
| And my blunt be stupid-fat, double-stuffed — Oreos |
| I get loaded til I motherfucking overload |
| Been rapping, flows still tight like aerobic’s clothes |
| Ask them bitches, I told em hoes |
| They back it up like Sunnydrive and Bronx Tale Cologero |
| Lighter in my pocket, light the sky rocket |
| Pull em hammers out and run them nigga’s like Stockings |
| Got some niggas from my city |
| Thugga, Dizzy, Flow |
| Sorry 4 the Wait, coming soon, Carter IV, bitch! |