| It’s 7:20 am and I’m already awoke
|
| I’m bustin down all my chronic roaches is smoked
|
| I’m hella mad cause I had me a bag but I lost it
|
| Or else did I smoke it, or else had to toss it
|
| Damn you forget shit fuckin 'round with this shit
|
| But I gotsta have it, my habit’s like an addict
|
| I spark the sticky resedue immediately smoked
|
| Don’t let it gets the best of me I tells my troat
|
| As I stepped out my house and stopped shortin, no loc
|
| I ran back in and I grabbed my 4−4
|
| So I’m 'bout to slide to the side they ride on
|
| And post up them hoes that I can gets my grind on
|
| My mind on nuttin' but my loot today
|
| Just coming up and flossin like dukes dekay
|
| Fat sack, my strap and I’m rollin
|
| And twelve packs dumpin and I’m smokin on the doja
|
| Still rollin and that’s a fact
|
| That nigga Half Dead and young Quicc Ta Mac (well allright)
|
| Still rollin and you know that’s right
|
| Two B.G.'s from the. |
| eas-eastside
|
| Well the friday just hit and it’s twelve o’clock
|
| I gots my shit about to shop mustang T top
|
| Karl motherfuckin T hooked me up with the bombay
|
| So I gets my floss on, like that, peep the disflact
|
| The summer’s poppin and I’m gon be niggas knockin (why)
|
| Cause jealous motherfuckers talk shit when they see you clockin
|
| But that ain’t shit cause that’s the same niggas on my dick
|
| Who wanna sell with me and bell with me and elevate their grip
|
| The sun is up niggas deep cloggin up the street
|
| Too Cool hit up the spot with hoes in his backseat
|
| My pants was creased and was faded
|
| You might as well call me Smokey cause I’m in by in on friday
|
| Too, that Boogaloo got me tweakin (uh huh)
|
| Right now I’m chocolate speakin to talkin about this weekend
|
| But you continue to dash up like mincheekin
|
| This nigga Quick this Mike be peepin and have 'em niggas leapin
|
| Still rollin and that’s a fact
|
| That nigga Half Dead and young Quicc Ta Mac (well allright)
|
| Still rollin and you know that’s right
|
| Two B.G.'s from the. |
| eas-eastside
|
| I decided to ride with a set-up camp
|
| And put the lick down like a postman staff
|
| Wrap around the corner cause the cops on hot revenge
|
| 'till the end then I drops my rocks on locks
|
| Off the hoop cause the doobs got near
|
| Plus niggas is seem to see my shit is straight dancin the streets
|
| Heat in my pants in case I have to trip
|
| Double M with the extra clips
|
| Slips never cause I always gots my strap and I
|
| Never hesitate to put a nigga on his back
|
| In fact, my sack was way off in the cut
|
| And tryna make a sell and the cops pulled up, shucks
|
| I had the ends and the cavvy in my hand
|
| They took me to the station and my bell was too gray
|
| I belled out and my pockets still swollin
|
| And bellin up ocean nigga, and I’m still rollin
|
| Still rollin and that’s a fact
|
| That nigga Half Dead and young Quicc Ta Mac
|
| Still rollin and you know that’s right
|
| Two B.G.'s from the. |
| eas-eastside |