Lyrics:
Out in the west Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Nighttime would find me in Rosa's Cantina music would play and Feleena
Dj red alert, he's down with us
Robocop boy, he's down with us
Makin' funky music is a must i'm number one
People still takin' rappin' for a joke
slip, I'll whip
Cuz homeboy, ya slippin'
I understand that music calms the savage beast
But keep in mind that I compose my music piece by piece
style
static never had any so I'm packin a black
automatic pistol itchy by the C.I.A.
By the way, my display of rhymes that I will lay
down on wax,
girl, but you ain't that betty white
Empty my bank account buy a house or chain I might
Get what I want what I want not what you like
Talk about me like
Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Night time would find me in Rosa's Cantina
Music would play and Felina would
and a 100 hoes with us
That wanna roll with us
BET awards show with us
It's Compton's bad boy
Got my main bitch with me
And she get them white bars out
Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock
the computerised game
You get mad coz your girlfriend wants to play my song
You know you want to hear "Put The Record Back On"
That's rippin'
That's rippin'
boy
That's how we get down in the Dixie
Big trucks lifted up
Always down to get stuck
We don't play around here if
You want try your luck
Grab a jar,
jordans and a polo
Nigga died pretty as a pimp in a photo
Woah woah yeen heard fat boy
He ain't say that boy, don't even try to act, boy
That fat black
it ain't what it was
I'm making music
While y'all making noise
Working all week
Saturdays for the boys
Then come on Sunday
I stay with the fam
Only one
me and the Mob gotta trunk fulla 9's
Play ya and I'll slay ya
I got thug-made dough by the ha-ir
Ready to buck buck buck and it's a must
To duck
out the strip then like Nash when I'm dippin'
Feeling like God's son, the way that it was written
[Chorus]
Them boys want they music on blast
collectin'
My issue you neglectin', seem to me you disrespectin'
Boy don't play with my pape's 'cause I'ma gon' spray where you stay
Pull out that K in
harder than that
But I got standard from when
Niggas rocked a starter cap
And I got morals for myself
I'm living by a code
And I arrive for you even if you
numbers, statistics or stats
I never write hooks for the radio, they never even play me
So why would I concern myself with that?
But my music is really
on when I see y'all
Proof what the fuck you thinkin' of nigga, that's cash boy
Need the white boy to get y'all started ass niggaz
Fuck y'all hoes, I told
hipgrave. oh, mac.
Later
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand
violated, you did)
I don't even bring my street drama to the mic
(I keep music music 'cus)
And you think you got the cheek to do that
Alright then 'cus you
give stimulation
Sign my autograph pulled out a pen she wanted penetration
make the earth shakes from the power I generate
Demorne Warren the type
boo shit
I don’t give a fuck I’m on that red shit
That blue shit
That white, black shit you act quick
Get smacked quick, i don’t give a fuck i rap
Until
CALIFOR-NI-A down to JAPAN,
It?s the real McCoy making all that noise,
More FOB than FALL OUT BOY?.
You're never on time
And music?s on all day
And you be
that need taming
But I hold a whip and a chair
And I don't play fair, so you'd better stay there
Until I say "Jump through the fire"
But I won't get
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