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E-40
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Clown Wit It
作詞:Omar Helton, Bosco A. Kante, Earl Thomas Stevens, Michael Tyler
Forty water and Mystikal What cha know about that, nigga?
What cha want, girl? You interested in a thug ass nigga Wit battle wounds and scars Lawyers, doctors, rappers R&B singers or sports stars?
Wig splittas and dome crackers that's all I'm accustomed to Allergic to suckas and bustas and get to sneezin' and shit Ain't affiliated wit pathological liars and name droppers Just bosses and mafia niggas, slick talkers and collar poppas
Drug traffic and racketeer bank robbers Young pits pants saggin', totin' and packin' choppers Having this ghetto money tryin' to stay papered up like a fax I keep tellin' all these niggas out this way You ain't got to have dandruff to have scratch
Protect yo neck and yo chest See, my mentality hasn't changed Just my physical address, nothin' less
I smoke wit the gromiest and the highest Takin' my chances on hepatitis Sharin' my fortys of malt liquor drinkin' 211, after any old nigga thinking
Clown wit it, clown wit it Pimpin' mob wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Player boss wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Give a fuck wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it I mean sic wit it
Clown wit it, clown wit it, clown wit it Pimpin' mob wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Player boss wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Give a fuck wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it
Nigga, you must have been drinkin' dog water If you think you can fuck wit the bayou godfather Smoke like scaldin' water I'm come from the 12th ward Cuts and welts and scars whoever face-off
Burnin' and turnin', they lights out makin' them stay dark Body beatin' and sweepin', keepin' 'em sleepin' Heat seekin' deletin' 'cause, bitch, I ain't need cha Feel like bullets hit cha when the rhymes flyin' off
When I get finish wit cha, you gonna feelin', dog tired, boss Jump shop, hop flight, cop ride and Tellin' finally smell it and chop it up wit Fonzarelli
These niggas be sounding like they talking 'bout they on one But when I come, they only fuck up, one run like home run Fire-bringa, rhyme-singa, pussy-banga, young dick-slanga They funky like Kunta Kinte own thang On my bike I'm ridin' the fuckin' rap game on the handle bars
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 Clown wit it, clown wit it Pimpin' mob wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Player boss wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Give a fuck wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it I mean sic wit it
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Livin' in California ain't always so cute like New Orleans Fuck around and get yo head put on flat in a road rage dispute The poor get poorer and the rich keep gettin' richer These hoers keep pourin' and the spicks keep getting slicker
I play the game for what it's worth Hard like penitentiary steel, not soft like a Nerf I know some cats, seriously, homey, maybe twice Ain't neva been pass four blocks in they li-a-life
Dudes can't even dream a dream about gettin' paid Just sittin' on the corner, sittin' for about a decade I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I'm a rebel Some cats'll bury their self alive Just to prove they know how to use a shovel
And about you sounding like everybody else Ass rappers knock my flow But in the back of your head, you really be sayin' That their nigga right their be snappin' that nigga from the back I ain't even gon' lie pimpin' that nigga a fool right there He got a fool style that nigga there can go go
Clown wit it, clown wit it Pimpin' mob wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Player boss wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Give a fuck wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it I mean sic wit it
Clown wit it, clown wit it, clown wit it Pimpin' mob wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Player boss wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Give a fuck wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it I'm talkin' sic wit it
Clown wit it, clown wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Clown wit it, clown wit it Biatch
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