Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gumbo (feat. Da Unda Dogg, J.T. the Bigga Figga & Daine), artist - Daine. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Gumbo (feat. Da Unda Dogg, J.T. the Bigga Figga & Daine) |
| What’s happening playa, just sitting here, you know |
| Putting together some of that ghetto gumbo, you know |
| Some motherfucking gumbo? |
| Yeah nigga, gum in the mother fuck bo |
| Like that there? |
| Yeah, I got my niggas in here, we finna put it down |
| You know what I’m saying, real, real special |
| You know? |
| Check it out, like this here |
| Verse1(Mac Dre) |
| As I get to bustin' |
| This introduction |
| Of mind corruption |
| And rhyme seduction |
| I steal and fill brains |
| With game and mo' thangs |
| Like them dope thangs |
| And what that hoe brang |
| Creep on Crest streets |
| Speak on fresh beats |
| Hit the motel, and freak on fresh sheets |
| And wet sheets, is the end result |
| Been killing long cock since ten years old |
| See I blend this old-game with this new |
| And ain’t no telling what a bitch will do |
| Now picture you |
| In my position |
| Steady getting sweated by the opposition |
| Could you handle |
| All this scandal |
| And keep on stepping like boots and sandals |
| My handle, is young Mac Dre |
| Silky slim, is my A.K.A |
| And you know that bay is my rompin' grounds |
| I mean stompin' grounds |
| But I like the way Rompin' sounds |
| So I’ma keep it |
| Romp related |
| And if it ain’t down with the romp, I hate it |
| Verse2(JT the Bigga Figga) |
| Well let me jump into the pot with all the hustlers and players |
| Chop potatoes with Phillie faders, Knocking niggas with Tre Eights |
| But now I |
| See my niggas at the spot with the session |
| Illegal product |
| Then people plotted, rotted with no confessions |
| Smith and Wessons |
| Demonstrations with Fully Autos, actin' |
| Conversations at the lab to keep the trackers trackin' |
| Double backin' to the spot where all the money filter |
| Keep it on the down low |
| You never tell about your scrilla |
| On the reala |
| I breaks it down in all directions |
| It’s the Fillmoe players with the O |
| And the Crest connection |
| All in the session with my folks, You know they got the Dolo |
| Hit the gateway tracks, like some fiends in a forward Volvo |
| Bought a Bolo |
| Seen Kelly, mashed off, and then we hollered |
| Trailing Coolio and Mac Dre in a green Impala |
| Getting cloudy |
| The laboratorys just like a porny |
| Got a patient |
| Cousin Quinn is making the shit get saramani |
| Hella fetti |
| We ready, steady, with all the bumbles |
| Keeping it real with Dangerous Dame and Mac Mall in this fucking gumbo |
| Straight paper |
| Straight fetti |
| Straight gumbo |
| Verse3(Dangerous Dame) |
| Niggas we pull |
| Niggas will say so |
| We hit the strip from San Jose, to Vallejo |
| Make more scrilla by the mouth piece |
| Non-talking niggas don’t know shit about me |
| Ignore 'em like bitches |
| Respect |
| There ain’t a hand out |
| Like a sore thumb, fake niggas always stand out |
| Player hater prayer |
| Praying that I buckle everyday |
| Ain’t worth five cents, or my knuckles to the face |
| But my burners ain’t feeling no flesh |
| If you niggas wanna test |
| Let it jump and we could put the shit to rest |
| You thinking deeply |
| But I be on service like a shark |
| Consider me that hate, but see I serve you from the heart |
| 'cause love loves me |
| And hate loves me |
| So what the fuck you think? |
| You can’t fuck with me |
| You paying dopefiends, to put 'em to work |
| But now your money’s gettin' low |
| While I be getting low with this wicked flow |
| You got at me last night |
| But I wasn’t asking who was bustin' the trigger |
| I’m blowing big bomb smoke, yelling «Nothin' ass nigga» |
| My pimping ain’t soft |
| I’m taking no losses |
| So why the hell do you persist to put me in crosses? |
| You thought it was shackles, but then they was ropes |
| And now they’re spider webs |
| I broke on you hoes |
| I know what you’re doing before you do it |
| Got an outside plan, but in the end you’re looking stupid |
| Huh, yeah |
| 'Cause Dangerous Dame got 'em riding on the freeway |
| Actions speak louder |
| I don’t fuck with he say-she say |
| Think you got game? |
| Never could you have it |
| You niggas are crying wolf, while I’ll be fucking Jessica Rabbit |
| Straight trading places |
| But fool this ain’t no dream |
| You was happy as hell when you had me under your infra red beam |
| Once again, get low for the East O |
| Add a little recipe to the gumbo |
| Verse4(Da Unda Dogg) |
| Add me |
| Mix me up |
| Stir me in the pot with these niggas that fix me up |
| See, back in '91, Coolio was the shit |
| So now we cooking a batch of gumbo and it ain’t gonna quit |
| My nigga the Bigga Figga, adding that spice so fool it’s saucy |
| You bitches thinking you’ll eat for free, well this shit is costly |
| So back up off me |
| And recognize the sound is poppin' |
| Beause we steadily droppin' dope, like the keys you coppin' |
| Mother fuckers, they get to actin foul |
| When they know they can’t fuck with the style |
| Smile punk mother fucker, sucka, hating bustas |
| Ain’t no friends when it comes to ends, so you can not trust us |
| But trust me |
| You can not dust me, or try and bust me, dumbo |
| Your ass gets heated in this pot of gumbo |