Lyrics Doe Doe - Webbie, Lil Phat, Bun B

Doe Doe

Blowin doe, doe with this 4−4
Got the hat back with the seats low
Blowin doe, doe with this 4−4
Got the hat back with the seats low
Blowin doe, doe with this 4−4
Got the hat back with the seats low
Blowin doe, doe with this 4−4
Got the hat back with the seats low
It ain’t no joke up in here, got so much smoke up in here
That you’ll prolly choke up in here, if you ain’t on that dope up in here
Mayne I should slow up in here, cause I can’t get roped up in here
Got this lil’ho up in here and I ain’t had insurance in years
But I’ll turn the wheels, the music fuck up your ears
Snatch some mo twenty-sixes, give you mo shit to go whisper
I have 'em big, by the line-you clip 'em one at a time
You do this shit by the month, I switch 'em up by the blunt
So don’t be stuntin, respect that chickens and boppas be on me
And Yeah I’m prolly in the projects with some lil' niggas that’s wanted
In the whip with some tint, bad bitch with some sense
I get tired of ridin this, I hit the castle and switch
Yeah my lil' homie done came up on some extravagant shit
So I roll it up and took me an extravagant hit
Got to laughin' and grinnin', mayne it must be bleezie
Started trippin' and cheesin', I rolled another one, immediate-you know I’m
I be creepin' slowly in the Monte Carlo
I ain’t goin' inside till tomorrow
I gotta get it, give a fuck if it’s your car note
Black Jeep behind me that’s my nigga Marlo
I pull up at the studio, I’m gettin' blunted
With a flipper, Boosie call her Young Dummy
My girl hit me, Phat bring yo ass home
Not right now cause I’m gettin' my thug on
Eyes low, Yeah I’m smokin' off the pound
Hat back, seats low-me and my round
4−4 in my pack it’s kind of heavy
Take it off, put it on my lap-I stay ready
This shit garbage mayne I’m tired of smokin' this
Hit my nigga B to get some different shit
Mufucka and don’t never think I’m scary
I put hollow tips through yo fuckin' belly
They gon' burn ya like a deli, I stay ready
Mayne I’m always in the ghetto, in the ghetto you can find me
Cadillac swangin-car killas right behind me
Rollin down the interstate doin' bout ninety
The car so smoked out this shit about to blind me
Gotta crack the window and let loose the smog
While I’m bendin' corners in my candy painted hog
The swisher’s so packed, this mothafucka’s like a log
I take another hit and then I pass it to my dog
A doe-doe smokin' gangsta, I stay twistin' that green
A twenty eight gram a day habit, know what I mean
If I don’t get my medicine nigga on the cool
I’m bout to start trippin' out-actin a mothafuckin' fool
That’s when Dr. Jekyll turned into Hyde on these boys
And pull out the Heckler and start to ride on these boys
Where I’m from we ain’t lettin' shit slide on these boys
But we gon' keep our pistols and our eyes on these boys, That’s what’s up
(Chorus Till End)