Lyrics:
The '07 Ice Cube, B. Sig so rude
Tell a trick, get these nuts, eat dick like food
Now see if I care if this verse get aired
Even if you mute it the curse
ducked
E&J fell out my cup
Them bullets fly by, that shit sober you up
I'm proud of my niggas, they never switched up
Don't care if it's Michael B.
it
and Cali-G in California is 'bout it, 'bout it
Mo B. Dick (if you 'bout it) you know he's 'bout it 'bout it
Nick Pokey you know he's 'bout it
ain't no disco,
This ain't no fooling around
This ain't no Mudd Club, or C. B. G. B.,
I ain't got time for that now
Heard about Houston? Heard about
wordplay, Olubowale my first name
I think I'm Koko B. wearin, you just a bird babe
I got a pair of J's, I roll a pair of J's
We up in Diamond supply, spending
back, bad bitches on the couch
Ahh, wordplay, Olubowale my first name
I think I’m Koko B. wearin, you just a bird babe
I got a pair of J’s, I roll
Writers B. Eggers, J. Eggers
Copyright 1970
It ain't fair for you to leave me cold and cryin' in the night
It ain't fair to take your body from my
(Based on a poem by W. B. Yeats)
That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
The '07 Ice Cube, B. Sig so rude
Tell a trick, get these nuts, eat dick like food
Now see if I care if this verse get aired
Even if you mute it the curse
untouched by the man
Songs we used to sing used to mean something
Now they just bland like the drummer
Where's the real drummer? Michael B.
Mint
A troupe of strolling players are we, not stars like L. B. Mayer's are we,
But just a simple band who roams about the land,
Dispensing plentyof
with Mrs. L. B. Jones
And if he keeps making fancy passes
I'll start holding evening classes
I'll give him sugar and molasses
And the life, I live
can feel dis
Mo b. d put it on the back so y'all can peel dis
Craig be whipped it up with some be 12s
I slung it on the street to make the muthafucka
with Mrs. L. B. Jones
And if he keeps making fancy passes
I'll start holding evening classes
I'll give him sugar and molasses
And the life, I live
rhythm to my feet
And when we, when we do it do it to the beat
She like, "My Melody" done by Eric B. and Rakim
'Cause she be rockin' me steadily, yo
[Mo B. Dick]
Things ain't what they used to be.
Things ain't what they used to be.
[Verse 1: Master P]
I remember back in the days it wasn't
In a place that's not too far, back home
Took a train to Jordan
And to Texas and back
I met Lyndon B. Johnson and I felt his hand on my back
and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for the fuse
I'm in
click
Talking 'bout, "Ruck, let's battle," on some 8 Mile shit
I'm like, "Nigga, my name ain't B. Rabbit"
It's Sean Price, Big Ruckus from busting
please, they must be on E's and dust
Then niggas f'in with pills, y'all don't get G's like us
Nigga please, y'all young'ns ain't got OG's like me
B. Sig,
for me face the judge and lie for me
P. I. T. T. S. B. U. R. G. H.
Represent to the fullest
And I'm putting cowards back into place
When I'm
the hydrents
R.I.P Stack B. I'm gonna keep you alive kid
Dressed in something so fresh and wonderful
F-N-F and S-N double O-P
Gather 'round, go a-head
B. Sig., Rell, Peedi Crakk, Free, Young H-O, Bleek (you understand)
Introducin'
It's Young C (Young C)
Home of Philly, young and hungry
All
You know Johnny B. Goode and Zorro, too
Can't love you any more than I do.
Pity, pity, pity, Miss Kitty
Didn't I buy you new
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