Nothin 2 a Bo$$

歌詞

Haha, I can't believe you niggaz You can't be serious You really thought since 'Pac died The West coast fell the fuck off, huh? You thought since Dre ain't made a album, we flopped? Fuck that shit nigga Rap-A-Lot for life nigga, Yukmouth nigga West Coast don nigga, what's wit' it punk? It's nuthin' to a boss nigga We been ridin' on dubb's that spin nigga We been poppin' bottles, nigga Since 'Pac was alive nigga The West Coast is back you faggot ass fucks I'm from the West Coast and never-ever crip-walk I'm like the Bird Man, platinum grill, big cross And I'm tryin' to sell a few mill like Kris Kross I'm ultra cocky, tell a chicken get lost Diss the boss an' get ya lips ripped off I let clips off, ya whole click soft What you know about a hundred on a wrist watch Twenty on ya chicks watch loungin' Gucci flip flops And I bang in the club like Rick Rock Yuk show you how to rock that real thug hip-hop They ride lo-lo's, Yukmouth flip drops Off the floor every year is a whip hop Menage-a-trios all year if ya chick jock With ten karats in my ear like big shot Godzilla get the scrilla like Chris Rock An' I'ma bring the West back when my shit drop To roll around on 24's wit' plenty millions in a vouge Everything a nigga want it's nothin' to a boss So much ice a nigga froze, custom rides wit' 310's Until I die it's all West Coast, it's nothin' big to a boss Yeah, if you gon' do it, do it right, I'm in the blue and white Rally striped Vipe leavin Peanuts wit' a crew of dykes Tuesday night I got my game together I'm dangerous fella, my rims spin like plane propellers An' I'm down wit' Prince James forever Rap-A-Lot fo' lia (Life) Yukmouth, Scarface an Tela And y'all know Yuk is off the meter For all you non-believers, I spark the heater I'm what you call a block leader Why you hatin'? I roll through ya radio station wit' Gary Payton In a franchise Lac outside on cherry Dayton's An' rock the new blue Burberry Make every nation feel the thug vibration, uh My cars talk back like Michael Knight I got a hunderd on a Roy Jones and Tyson fight You wanna roll wit baller, well tonight's ya night I rock ice cause the price is right Step it up hater, yeah To roll around on 24's wit' plenty millions in a vouge Everything a nigga want it's nothin' to a boss So much ice a nigga froze, custom rides wit' 310's Until I die it's all West Coast, it's nothin' big to a boss Every day I'm poppin' a bottle and poppin' a tag Fourty G's in a Gucci bag, I'm coppin' a Jag Two-hundred G's in a Louie bag, I'm coppin' a pad Wit' the dragon shaped tool in the bag What you know about that? What you know about chronic an Hypnotic? Coppin' Lamborghini's from 310 an Simbalic Drop stretch Hummers, twenty-four inch rims on it [Unverified] skin interior wit' the suede trim on it, wait I came in the game wit' mobsta tales I hit Mr. Chow's for meals, crack lobster tails At the mall wit' a model who only buys Chanelle You wish I fell but I prevail, Yukmouth is ill I rock the, 'Wheels of Fortune' Like Pat Sajack in a black Maybach I'm tryin' to bring the Bay back In a A's throw back and a A's hat Yuk a beast, and bleach couldn't fade that What? To roll around on 24's wit' plenty millions in a vouge Everything a nigga want it's nothin' to a boss So much ice a nigga froze, custom rides wit' 310's Until I die it's all West Coast, it's nothin' big to a boss