Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Peepin' Tom , by - Knoc-Turn'al. Release date: 23.02.2004
Song language: English
Peepin' Tom |
| Yeah |
| It’s how we do |
| This a little story about uh. |
| A nigga you know well, Knoc-Turn'al |
| I can see you watching |
| Waitin in my garden |
| In my bushes plottin |
| Peepin' Tom’s in my home |
| Lookin in my window |
| Once upon a time in the projects, yo |
| There lived a nigga named Knoc-Turn'al |
| America’s most wanted, for sho' |
| In a black Lo-Lo, with tinted windows |
| Just cruisin' down the street in my 6−4 |
| Checking all my traps and all my hoes |
| Life is, too short, I stay on my toes |
| G’d up, I spill gin and juice on brand new clothes |
| I pulled up, hit a switch and dropped the back |
| On the prowl in a black hat lookin for cats |
| I got a chrome plaque that reads, «Who's the Mac?!» |
| Black pussy, always talk about it 'cause I love it |
| This California love got a nigga drunk in public |
| Express yo' self, keep doin' it good |
| Got white on the block, keep the heat in the bush |
| Keep risin' to the top, keep smokin' the kush |
| The boys in the hood are always hard |
| Come talkin that trash, we’ll pull your guard |
| Knowin' nothin' in life but to be legit |
| Can’t trust my homies, can’t trust no bitch |
| Don’t quote me boy, 'cause I ain’t say shit |
| It’s hotter on the block than it is in the kitchen |
| And I’m hard in the paint, listen, I’m steady dippin |
| I get down, while your bullshittin' |
| And these are the tales, the freaky tales |
| Of a nigga on the grind that you know so well |
| Got a system in your trunk then I’m jacking for beats |
| Black superman, I put it down for L.A.C |
| I grip the pump in my lap at all times |
| Fools be jackin' other fools but they don’t be jackin mine |
| Summer time in the L.B.C. |
| (Fuck the police) |
| Fuck being bound by law and the peace treaty |
| We be clubbin, everybody likes when the girls shake somethin |
| System overload, stay bumpin |
| It’s thug life, y’all know the rules, gotta do what ya gotta do, and stay true |
| Propose a toast to the West Coast |
| Easily I approach the microphone because I ain’t no joke |
| Tell your mama to get off of my dip |
| I have no time to give her my dick, I’m gonna hold it |
| And walk around the stage |
| And if you fuck up, I’m gonna get my gauge and shrivel you up |
| Like California raisins, then unload the barrell and laugh |
| 'Cause I’m puttin lead in your motherfuckin' ass |
| I’m on the radio, and ain’t a damn thing funny |
| It’s just like Compton, bitch better have my money |
| I messed up and I don’t know why |
| Tryin' to get a piece of that American Pie |
| Do my thing, blow off the roof on 187-Proof |
| It’s gettin funk-ay, it’s gettin funk-ay |
| It’s the formula, murder was the case that they gave me |
| Dear God, I wonder can you save me? |
| Dear Mama, Brenda had a baby |
| Hard times got a nigga goin' crazy |
| The hood can’t take me under, it’s a G-thang |
| We backyard bullyin' in the land where we bang |
| Gangsta’s make the world go 'round |
| What’s my motherfuckin' name? |
| Knoc-Turn'al, didn’t even have to use my AK |
| Today was a good day |