Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Whoodeeni , by - De La Soul. Release date: 25.08.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Whoodeeni |
| Bullet bring the gun, why pull it? |
| Shoot words to see who’s full of it |
| We from the same place, land of the game face |
| Plug signs on the jackets |
| Give props, yo, like a Prop Joe package |
| It’s illegal |
| How those kids can come from out of the slums and live so regal |
| Lose it all on a prayer to the ego |
| Before the loss we earn for the cause |
| Toast to the life though my liver won’t endorse |
| Currently in time and my enzymes |
| Are in sync to digest the brink of Armageddon |
| The bedding’s over the mattress we lay with the actress |
| For social media to swallow us |
| Watch them rap peers who don’t reply back |
| 'Cause they think we gonna snatch up their Twitter followers |
| That’s some female type foolery |
| And your females like glue to it |
| She know it, the scent of a poet |
| Police buy restraint to cover all the angles |
| The opera of operations |
| Scene One got you and your crew all confident with courage |
| We’ll be there, jump in your square, wreck it |
| You be like «Check it, they stretched the shit into rectangles, damn!» |
| Dance, freak, get out your seat |
| Show me that you is a real whoodeeni |
| Get loose y’all, work it out now |
| Everybody, everybody get down |
| Whoodeeni, whoodeeni, whoodeeni |
| Born institutionalized |
| My homie from N.O. |
| found his crib with the roof on the side |
| FEMA asking for an address, but ain’t no mailbox |
| Nothing left to do out here but to sell rocks |
| Now they got cellphones inside of the cell blocks |
| And my cousin on parole 'cause he sold Glocks |
| My cousin that sold stock |
| Told you we have more soul than James Brown |
| Wearing a gold watch that obviously don’t work |
| Used to go home and rob niggas for homework |
| See if the chrome work |
| Might call your girl to see if my phone work |
| I’m a hood star and the trophy’s a gold vert |
| Mouth full of gold teeth |
| Niggas might end up obsolete if I’m four deep |
| Real nigga for real bed full of new sheets |
| Bedroom floor filled up with the loose leafs |
| This is a war zone, me and a two-piece |
| Put another head on and make it a new piece |
| She be like «ooh wee», I be like «ooh wee» |
| I love myself so much I’m a groupie |
| Everybody know my verses is Pookie |
| Had 'em all strung out like it’s a drug house |
| When I’m in the booth I’m MJ with his tongue out |
| When I’m in the booth I’m Kanye with a gun out |
| Run in your mom house |
| Then I’mma lean sideways and burn out |
| All natural, I hope you got the perm out |
| I’ve been straightening that shit |
| New niggas came and tried to hate on that shit |
| I’mma use it now, I ain’t waiting on shit |
| Dance, freak, get out your seat |
| Show me that you is a real whoodeeni |
| Get loose y’all, work it out now |
| Everybody, everybody get down |
| Whoodeeni, whoodeeni, whoodeeni |
| Yo, big drawers, where the big drawers at? |
| I got a case of the little head controlling the big head thinking |
| Played Honest Abe in the back of a Lincoln |
| Chopped down a cherry, American Pie varied |
| Next day she was on my Snapchat sexting |
| Had her bunny hopping a quick ten seconds |
| Dear Lord, forgive a nigga, I’ve been down with doubt |
| Had the frog legs, now I’mma knock this piggie out |
| Now Dave like to cuddle, but Dave don’t play that |
| Like Dave had the ring, listen, Dave ain’t say that |
| Courtships to door steps for gettin' ass |
| And if it’s one of my broads, keep your feet off the grass |
| Size eleven the gas |
| Mash that potato 'til we lay in the grass |
| She mellow like it’s a picnic |
| If she the mermaid, give her the fish stick |
| First class flight, shoot her out to the district |
| Wait, cancel the stallion, hold your horses |
| Kickstart your life and cut your losses |
| Look how we did 'em, ma, your boy still got it |
| I quit drinking, I quit the narcotics |
| Life’s a bitch, but she seeing a therapist |
| This hip-hop done really took care of us, huh |
| We got stoops and Van der Rohes to sit on |
| Bitcoins, Vivian Maiers to bid on |
| But we cautious |
| Never undermine the hate and turn the spell on your evil forces |
| But this ain’t the cha-cha two-step |
| Been a rider ever since the Schwinn gooseneck |
| The buck stops here, ain’t no 'who's next' |
| Dance, freak, get out your seat |
| Show me that you is a real whoodeeni |
| Get loose y’all, work it out now |
| Everybody, everybody get down |
| Whoodeeni, whoodeeni, whoodeeni |