Lyrics:
Till the world is gone
This go all around the world
So we carry on (six-seven, click-clack!)
I'm drunk from the show last night but
I gotta catch
with borax
Talkin' flow that just impacts
Get shit jumpin' like click clack
Nigga I ain't with that chit chat
You n' my bars a mismatch
I take minds
heard of
now they gon learn to respect me bra.
I lick a shot 9 millas get burned into they retina.
had a leg come out the back of yo head.
One word is
through your block?
Sheek, Funk Doc, Meth on top
Porsche, 300 horse fly by
Back open pumpin "How High?" (How High)
Yeah, can y'all see that (See that)
Who Are You Lovin Lyrics
Ice Cube
featuring Mr. Short KHOP
Mr Short KHOP:
Nasty girl nasty girl in ya own little nasty world (4x)
Chorus:
We
homie I'm watched by the police
Cops out patrollin', grab a Glock-40
Snipe at the squad car, story notinh
Fuck it if you want beef, click-clack, wack
cock it back click-click-click Hey!
It's Dr Bombay
Sick flow, get your Medicaid
And I'm like Hey!
My hometown is NJ
Eyes redder than Reynaldo Rey
I just
Ondanks alle keren I turned my violence
I feel like I'm JJ Olatunji, I be flexible like a bungee
Gimme money 'cause I got the big click, clack, bitch
You
analyze that
You know you best to fall back, woah
Yea, med alliance mind bless the mic for the gods
Teach the blind plus get a piece of mine
Release ya
(25% of the couples in this country
Are estimated to be in violent relationships)
(Listen to the hit) --> Ice Cube
(That is a fact)
(Listen
Over the trees, over the fences, through the sky,
'cross the clouds, on the roof, click-clack-click, real quick!
('cause here comes jolly old Saint
gang)
Tell 'em it ain't no thang, bitch, this Liu Kang
This bitch got kick back
I got the drop on a opp kickback
Yeah, bitch, click-clack, breakin'
and all that , the grip ill go clack
It spit it gon clap , your shit will go back
I spit it's all crack ,
You that's all facts ,
Get ready
to the back o' the booth and get a broom
Or Get consumed by the sickest word in this picture
This ain' a show dummy
Fuck faces get kicked till they kiss
back-back (on the gang, gang, gang, gang)
Ayy, I'm back on my dirt bag (dirt bag)
Four hundred foot up out the .40, make the pants sag, ayy
Ayy, click
best chill
Before you wake up with some gangsters in your grill and get killed
By a nigga named Big Phil, tote a big steel
Give a damn if my record
sittin' by the jack as
Now, she blowin' on a flute sweatin' on my mack as
Don't get it twisted trick we ain't no slackas
Ain't got time to play
gotta go pro once
Hit him wit the shotgun call that shit the stop button
Call me doctor car-ter aka young wild nigga
Aka no trial nigga AK click clack
Aye, shoot my shot, got range you can't aim
When your aim is shot, you shoot but you miss
Aye, click, clack, ratatat, hit him with the chrome
If a pussy
I been like Deion for eons
You ain't nothing but a biatch
Messed around and let me read up
I come back through and tear the street up
Ice cube
Ey yo Dapps run it back
Kelvin Blaq
I see niggas hating for no fucking reason
Still gon get this money it’s my fucking season
Speeding past these
Ice Cube in my nightcap, it was a good day
You heard what the hood say, Logic what you should play
Killin' shit like OJ, I'm rhymin' like old Jay
all of reality
But that's fine with me
You be a casual till you slip up
We coming like vultures
Click-clack, pop, pop, boom, gun gotcha
When the drama
come back through and tear the street up
Ice cube, nigga, you better D up
And when I come by, bitch, you better be up
Ass up, face in the pillow
I
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