| Saturday morning at the crack of sunrise
|
| Thank the man upstairs for lettin' me open my eyes
|
| It’s a whole new game for me like T-Lee
|
| It’s nine-seven now and I’ma stay sucka free
|
| Thinkin' about all my homeboys behind bars
|
| As I crease up my khakis and lace up my stars
|
| And everythang is straight I’m in the full zone
|
| Gettin' paper every day, it’s all I’m trippin' on
|
| 'Cause ain’t nothin' like a rag in Californ-i-a
|
| With the top back, rollin' on a hot sunny day
|
| It’s one-oh, fo'-sho', and I’m clownin' all the rookies
|
| With a pocket full of cookies
|
| And mashi’n to the backyard boogie
|
| Get yo' boogie on
|
| And then we comin' wit that
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oogie (yeah)
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oogie (it's all about that)
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oogie (unh)
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oogie (it's the backyard boogie)
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oogie
|
| Verse Two:
|
| Now just throw yo hands up high in the sky
|
| Representin' where you from cause it’s West till I die
|
| Put it down anywhere, take thangs for what they worth
|
| Been a rider since birth, and the earth is my turf
|
| So I bails in the party, everythang is cool
|
| It’s niggas in the hood I ain’t seen since high school
|
| And everybody gots stripes cause we all paid dues
|
| Crips, Damus, and other clicks and crews
|
| Just gettin' they boogie on, hoochie bitches gettin' loose
|
| It kinda remind me of the truce in nine-deuce
|
| I’m even kickin' back, and I’m usually chicken hawkin
|
| The Bloods shootin' dice, and the Crips are C-walkin
|
| Now the party is jumpin', and the crowd’s gettin' bigger
|
| Looked up and saw four hoes to every nigga
|
| And it’s off the hook, got ya grindin' and humpin'
|
| 'Cause the backyard boogie be bumpin'
|
| (Unh, straight from Inglewood, and you know that it’s all good
|
| You can put that on yo' hood, everyday
|
| And we comin with that)
|
| Verse Three
|
| Now it’s out of control, and everywhere you look
|
| Ain’t nothin' but real niggas, the bustas got shook
|
| And everybody left with the whole hustla bang
|
| And Daisy Dukes and khakis do seem to be the thang
|
| You choose or you lose while you conversatin'
|
| Enough cock to go around, so ain’t no playa hatin'
|
| I want homegirl over there in red
|
| Cause Baby Got Backs like Mix-a-Lot said
|
| When I keep my composure, kick back like a pro
|
| Cause Mack one-oh just refuse to save a ho
|
| But it’s a done deal, locked up throw away the key
|
| 'Cause she gonna leave a backyard boogie with me
|
| (Get yo' boogie on, yeah
|
| Get yo' boogie on, Inglewood
|
| Get yo' boogie on, Inglewood, pause
|
| Get yo' backyard boogie on)
|
| Outro-Chorus
|
| Straight from Inglewood, and you know that it’s all good
|
| You can put that on yo' hood, everyday
|
| Mackness, mackness, unh!
|
| Get yo' boogie on, get yo' boogie on
|
| Get yo' boogie on, nigga get yo' boogie on
|
| Get yo' boogie on, get yo' boogie on baby, pause
|
| Get yo' backyard boogie on
|
| Gangstas don’t dance we boogie
|
| Niggas run out and get yo' cookies
|
| Gangstas don’t dance we boogie
|
| Mack 10 ain’t no motherfucker rookie
|
| Backyard boogie oogie oofie |