Lyrics:
nigga think they could fuck around
Real niggas do real things
By all means, niggas knowing how we get down, it goes
Shoot 'em up, just shoot 'em up
One, two
One, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18
Wheels on a big rig;
And they're rollin' rollin' rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin'.
(Mighty fine, good buddy, let's back the big rig on up now!)
time
It's easy, yeah you see it's easy
Hit up the list in the party where the rest of the freaks be
Dressed to the nine catch a nigga with green E
adrenaline
Roll day on the strip, SK in the crib
Hundred crack viles, playin' the Benj'
Nickel nine gleam, like it's Armor All'd up
My squad be armed up
distress
It was past nine o clock, when I helped you to dress
I tried to do you up, but, it wasn't my day
For then to fill my cup, your zipper stuck half
nine o clock, when I helped you to dress
I tried to do you up, but, it wasn't my day
For then to fill my cup, your zipper stuck half way
I got all in
as I roll off the Compton blocks
To skoop up Ren I heard shots,
1 2 3, Then I see the nigga
Hop in the Benz and it was Ren on the motherfucking
One, two
One, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback
cartwheels
Trapstar, my NexTel chirp all day (Aye!)
Ridin' dirty, three nines and a four way (yeah!)
Good weed, good drink, big money, we (Aye!)
Rollin
We so thuggish ruggish
(The motherfucking war iz on)
You better suit up and do like Krayzie Bone
'Cause the motherfucking war iz on
What you gon' do,
Three days to get it on
And three days to get it off
And three more days to die
Then I'm six feet down
And I'm asking the good Lord up in heaven
drunk bastard
Here, take your keys, go boozin' up Gratiot
I hate you guys, you ain't my friends
Look what you just did to my mom's eight by tens
Now
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Coming-up w ghanwsel w aji 7daya takhd sora
Ma kantmixash lwad li bin 2 b7ora
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writing
Anything versus everything really means nothing
Can't be a king peacock - I hate strutting
Dressed up semi-jiggy I might frustrate somethin'
A lion
a wannabe
Put on a fresh new smile
In your eyes, the moon
That I swear by
In the night
My love
I am here for your pleasure
Dressed
everything but the telephone poles
was dressed up in bikinis
I knew that there must be a way to please the Lord and still get tan
But I felt so stupid with my
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
It's the ten wife commandments
I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
It's the ten wife commandments
thee
How shall I send thee
I'm gonna send thee nine by nine
Nine for the nine all dressed so fine
Ten for the ten commandments
Eleven for the eleven
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
It's the ten wife commandments
I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
It's the ten wife
a rhyme
Niggas catching three to nines, Muslims yelling free the mind
And I'm from Queensbridge, been to many places
As a kid, when I would say that out
on Sinai none higher than I
Roll up, like that good kush that they've
Been smokin' since 5
Pull out like 2 9’s and I
Aim it dead at they eyes
And tell them
the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred,
Up rode the troopers, one, two, three,
With the jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?
You'll come
move
Like Luther Vandross, I'm fuckin' up the West Coast
I'm right back up in ya when ya nut
One, two, three nut, from the D-R-E but
This is for
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