Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coffee Shoppe, artist - 8Ball.
Date of issue: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Coffee Shoppe |
You are now, witnessing, the effects of the BUDDHA! |
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo |
Redman kick through your door |
Liquidated then I come through your pores |
Think the track is bleedin' get at the gauze |
Mix, fidgit, 'fore I rip it in four’s |
Look at my face, you can tell that I’m slick |
The blunt, excersize, 10 in the clip |
Y’all niggas ready for the un-conterfit? |
D-O, dot, bee-bo, tuck in your shit |
That bogus holder of the sticky dolja |
Got me appearing on the wanted poster |
It’s like when your body get caught on rotor’s |
Wnen I snap like strings through boat motors |
My kitchen fridge look like Jeffery Dahmer’s |
Boys screamin' for mama from the drama |
My hunger for hip-hop got my gun up |
Yo EightBall, hit the marijuana |
Yeah, yeah |
EightBall blazin' the hay |
Inhale a pound almost every day |
Real playas run the game that they play |
That’s why I’m doin' it the playa way |
I say dope lines potent and real |
Showin' skills all my homies can feel |
Smile let you see the name on my grill |
Cut the track up let me show you the deal |
I be twisted with that Redman |
We get it all, cookin' dope makin' bread man |
I got the Eagle full of hollow tip lead man |
Hear what I said man? |
Can all that weak noise |
I write, busta go and get your little weak boys |
You know what bring a player joy? |
Playin' with them Glock toys |
See I avoid all suckas trippin' |
Full of liquor, actin' like a bunch of women lippin' |
Interested in what I be grippin' |
Dippin' in the Benz zippin' |
Pass all you haters fakin' |
Runnin' round seein' real players imitatin' |
Breakin' concentration, all up in my situation |
Hay blazin' |
Get y’all shit together |
Coffee Shoppe we with whatever |
EightBall stay high forever |
Yo Doc, keep it tucked under my leather |
We here to keep the party live |
Smoke hay till we chinky eyed |
Wanna brawl? |
We can meet outside |
Red and Ball be down to ride |
Yo, yo, look around you mothafuckers |
It’s a hip-hop holocaust |
Yeah, you just found the right superheroes to take care of that shit |
Mothafucker |
Head rush and green stinky |
Feelin' like a niga dropped a mickey |
Drink up the Hen and watch me get tipsy |
Who wanna ride with me, 160 |
Up and down 48 trackin' |
Ski mask, kick in doors in, straight beat jackin' |
Ball battin' rhymes all in your skull crackin' |
Actin' like I got a problem that’s heavy to me |
Smokin' brothers like a dooby in a gangsta movie |
MC’s turn stank like a old lady coochie |
Ball and Red be all up in your shit |
So deep that it be damn near permanent |
So authentic you can tell it from counterfeit |
Who wanna hit of the purest Coffee Shop crop |
Guaranteed to be bomb to the last drop |
Ball and Red keep it stone like Bedrock |
We keep it hot |
Yo |
I’m raunchy the blackout mode |
I snatch cheese that your mousetrap hold |
Yo, who fucks ya baby? |
Hey Kojak knows my flows, Kodak |
Couldn’t hold that pose |
Wow |
Goofy playin' tough in the streets |
Blue collar MC’s suffer the heat |
Until I reach the isosceles heat |
Right angle better, double your sleeve |
I’m just a black nation wide singer |
Cops lookin' for Red, but can’t arraign us |
You need more than lion trainers to tame us |
Famous for cuffin' mics with 5 fingers |
That’s why I walk so distorted |
Any form of hash aborted |
Word so superb it’ll turn to herb if you snort it |
50 sack and a nick can vouch for it |
We keep it critical |
If you hardcore spit it out, out, out, out |
Doc who be arousin' police |
My underground funk be plowin' the streets |
So if you claimin' you the best MC |
Bring your arm over here and handcuff me |
We battle till the cattle learn to speak |
Cross examine me, I’m straight up framed! |