Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Got Tha Fat Joint, artist - NefretitiAlbum song Tha Triflin' Album, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.1992
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
We Got Tha Fat Joint |
Wrap |
Then pass that joint |
(*in the background*) |
Where the joint, man? |
Somebody got it |
I ain’t got it |
Check it out y’all |
Mad Kap’s in the house |
Nefrettiti’s in the house |
And she finna kick it like this |
Come on now |
Come on |
So just call me the spark, held by the flame |
Once again my beats make white boys reclaim |
A stain on your brain, and yet I’m stayin the same |
Bust another rhyme, move into the hard time |
My lifeline revolves into a circle of zero |
And like for real I never liked no superficial hero |
Now this joint is fat, so spark up that fat joint |
And yes, you best believe I’m born again to prove my point |
To say the least, I know you know that hip-hop won’t stop |
I smooth will get wreck, then pass me the joint |
Pass it around |
Pass it around |
Pass it around (2x) |
Improvisation is the key to this freestyle |
Hip-hop style, while jazz in the meanwhile |
Stride, glide, and all that good stuff |
Ride to the rhythm of this jazz, it’s rough |
You’re crippled in the brain from a late night feature |
The government is run by the beast and the creatures |
Hanger for the hook-up, for the jab it’s junk |
They’re comin in your speaker with the funk-fu-fu-funk |
Some want you to say today I can’t fit on one caper |
Take out the seeds and begin to rollin papers |
Then I roll the blunt or a spliff or a fattie |
Feelin like a hood with a beanie in a Caddy |
I love my herb, I love my money, cause I’m young, matty |
Never eat the pork, cause it’s much, much too fatty |
So come down, selector, and give me my props |
I’m runnin through a field of marihuana crops |
I’m thinkin, all the green, fat, crazy, stinky buds |
Flow on the instrumental, cause this rhyme is not a dud |
Gettin crazy blunted, and you’ll never say I fronted |
On the raps, cause I take the track and run it |
Into the ground, I’m ghetto clown number one |
Rhymes are kinda fat like two tons of fun |
Smash, boom, bam! |
and I never sound flam |
It’s that nigga King Tee with the Mad Kap band |
Gettin stupid high off the chocolate ghetto thai |
So pass the dutchie on the left-hand side |
King Tee and Nef, and the rhymes are on point |
But now it’s time for Coke to pass the fuckin joint |
Pass it around |
Pass it around |
Pass it around (5x) |
Now here comes the bomb… |
Pass it around, throw some flex in |
Peek-a-boo! |
I mean — ooh! |
I be fresh when |
I do that, but wait — who dat? |
It’s the King |
Mad Kap, Nefrettiti’s the queen |
With the sound of Africa to the streets |
Somethin the Man can’t cheat |
And make it pop, cause we’re already poppin |
So I’m whistlin, sittin on the dock by |
The bay, singin 'ay-hey,' can you copy? |
Boomin like a jeep, deep with my posse |
What’s up, sister? |
yeah, it’s Mister |
K-i-n-g Tee, I brung a mixture |
Of ruff rhymes, I drove by to shoot the pop rap |
Cause you know you gotta stop that |
Bullshit, but when my pull hits, it’s on point |
And I got the fat joint |
Pass it around |
Pass it around |
Pass it around (4x) |