| Aiyyo, dot dot dot who is it the prime wizard
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| Erykah Badu-izm smoker, vocal chord woof choker
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| Now who block is this? |
| (Yo yo yo no no chill chill
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| Nah nah hold up homie) We takin over!
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| Gimme your girl, gimme your keys, to your four do' Explorer
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| Yo Lu-Nile, crack their composure
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| (We decompose your crowd) We layin down tighter than plaques
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| When I blast I wild like them two bitches from Baps
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| Yo, the Hong Kong Fooey, human tornado like Rudy
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| Turning your bomb-ba-zee into doobies
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| Platinum overseas like the Fugees, Japanese
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| Germany groupies, mooshi mooshi, sniffin lines
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| Off each other’s booty love the Luniz
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| I went from smokin dubs to QP’s
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| Make hits for thugs that bankin hoopies
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| And aimin uzis, at who dirty mackin my loochie
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| Come clost cock the toast and make you see Ghost-s like Whoopi
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| Have you ever seen a nigga get snatched up by his drawers
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| And wonder the cause, cuz big dope had his balls
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| Got small methamphetimes with colors to be Cray-ola
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| Took the drunkest O-A, and let the X take shit over
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| No need to get juiced cause it’s the anti-depressant
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| Smile now but trip later, and put your hand out for the present
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| Lay down for fifteen, so your body can feel rest
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| Kick your feet up, and start makin beats on your chest and think
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| Chorus: Redman and Luniz
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| Sex, money, drugs, music
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| Lies, these are the things that keep niggas…
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| «I was hyp-no-tized!» |
| «I'd like to break it down down»
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| «Cold turn the party out» «I'd like to, I’d like to break it down down»
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| «Cold turn the party out»
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| Ahh ahh, I smoke Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
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| Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Satur-dayyyyyyah!
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| Two lay ya blunt, players with cream
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| If I die my spirit will jump inside machines
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| Runnin niggas over like Christine (sorry)
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| I mix the green with the last piece of hashish, ass-burning
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| Hoes in my black mink, your baby momma lovin my backseat
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| Freak nasty got me slappin the ass cheeks of Blackstreet
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| So high, I’m so high I feel like I’m wearin a disguise
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| Superman type of, with Kryptonite eyes
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| Not knowin I’m trippin, I walks out to my vehic'
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| Buckle up for safety on my way to get some cheap shit
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| I’m out the parkin lot, sideways on two wheels
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| Vision is double, trouble to me is bein real
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| Listen to my big block bill cause in the town that’s a earful
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| Shares and mo' shares, swang if it’s good
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| Now how I get dollars, I be the rap artist blue collar
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| School scholars on knowledge to move dollars
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| I do gotta motion chirp, like Impalas
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| For niggas who rock Timbs, Gortex, or new Walla’s
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| You’re facin, the Cochise of operation
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| And if you ain’t tastin you should steady observations
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| Doctor/patient, leavin mics with laceratons
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| Love to stay bent with my doggs rollin adjacent (woof!)
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| And when they bark they turn your sunny days to dark
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| You play the back like Rosa Parks when the arc sparks
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| I bang rawly, do you orally
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| My horny sounds will pound more heavy than E-40
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| I’m gettin money y’all, I’m gettin money nigga
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| Bend your back like Long Isle Iced Teas with five liquors
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| Knew about the cheddar since I took my child picture
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| SDial 900-Do-Away-With-All-Snitches
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| Stop complaining, the game is for entertainment
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| What is it when niggas heads gettin covered with blankets?
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| It’s just a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin crew
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| I’ll have your brains doin donuts like you in a rental
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| Flip fools with credentials, nasty like havin sex with kinfolk
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| Blaze high, then smoke
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| Drunk-a-Lot, stays on top, that’s why we roll
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| Two and two, four deep makes a crew
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| Red Yuk and Num with the sidekick Hennesey
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| Fuzzy, wuzza, fuzzy, little friend of me
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| Hitters on the payroll, secure because we practice
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| Pure ass-kick cures for who’s acting drastic
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| Drank and buddha blast, callin shots on Motorolas
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| One step shy, so I’mma drank until it’s over
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| Kick this for the fake Versace wearin fake Donna Karan Mossino
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| Players we know, ain’t no gambino
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| Peons be watchin too much Casino, wannabe Nino Brown with the uzi
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| But clown you more like Downtown Judy
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| Niggas can’t fool me, I love the way you ball outta control
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| In your rhyme, then see you in person without a dime
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| But I’m global, with Reggie Noble man blazin
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| Dive in a crowd like Method Man and Van Halen
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| Chorus (repeat to fade) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hypnotize, artist - Luniz. Album song The Lost Tapes 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп