Above the Law, Tone Lōc, Kokane - Who Ryde lyrics
[Above the Law, Tone Lōc, Kokane - Who Ryde lyrics]
Yeah y'all know how, out here
They won't let a nigga join a team and shit
So I guess, I just have to join a gang
Damn my appetite for tough shit
Come on with me
Tack me up baby, get me up
Ace Nigga in the front
Me trey in me back and me stay strapped
Bail and hangin'
Doin' a little dirt with my niggas
While we flirt with some skirts
You know some hookers
But we stay with it, yeah, we flip it
We find us, a motherfuckin' Chevy
Then we dip it
Then they asked me: "Why you're in the game
Rollin' S-classes, humpin' Kokane?"
Yeah, see you're lookin' at my
Hoochie it's about that time
That me rollin' with my clique
Pimp Clinic hittin' dodo sticks
Cause bitches be sayin: "Hey
Mr gold Wire player
Won't you come out to be my hoe layer?"
Nah bitch
I'll be sittin' at the dock of the bay
Wating for the snow to roll in, split end
It's Kokane a k
A the black hopper
Surrounded by the black teamsters
With triple beamers
Cause sometimes it gets so hard
To slang yo stuff what you said KMG?
Chocolate nuts
And I'm lookin' for them hookers
With them big chocolate butts
To come get naked while we
Laugh about my jail record
Gimmie' the drawers girl, so check it
As I flow watch my bottom drop
And I be fillin' my top
Hittin' you up on your block hard hard hard
Hard hard hard hard hard hard
Hoping there's a change
They wanna stop gangsta rap but
They're kind of late
Cause I've been kickin' gangsta shit
For 7 years straight
And best believe makin' the end, ugh
Puttin' in work for my niggas in the pen
Cause see
Once upon a time I had a cabin sack
I start flossin' and flossin'
And never got tracked smokin' weed everyday
And making funky beats for my
Niggas around the way
Yeah, now I think I'm worth millions
And your white folks mad cause
I'm sellin' to your childrens
By the ounce and by the key
They don't wanna be like Mike
They wanna be like me
What's happenin' in the ghetto ain't
Happenin' in Bel Air
And I'm from California, not Delaware
So boo yaa, boo yaa, boo yaa
What's happenin' partner?
Ugh, I'm all in this track and
I'mma break you off somethin' proper
Cause I'm the C-O-L-D
Original 187 in the place to be
So when you see me
You better give me my props
Or get popped by the 44 and
Lined out in Shot sippin'
And for me, see that's a promise
I ain't trippin' boy, I'm just honest, ugh
I kick back, relax
Cause I'm fat and all that when I attack
It's like a swing of a Baseball bat
Don't appose me, cause I live my life cosy
If I had a ring I'll be around rosie
Lived my early years straight like a hoodlum
No time for women cause
I've never understood them
They wanted to hold me
Stretch me in Coupe De
Rather have my forties an just
Groove in my hoopty
Comin' down your block, your street
Comin' down your avenue
Check that gratitude, check my attitude
You wanna run up, you got your gun up
Fool, what's up?
Shit, you betta not even hiccup
Cause if you do, I'mma break your jaw
Loc, Kokane and Above the Law
Puttin' in work like some old Vietnam vets
What we set, gettin' more more respects
With residuals as individuals sad as pitiful
That you can't get a hook
Of Tone Loc kickin' that raw
Shit for your life
West Side Tribe and Black Mafia Life
They won't let a nigga join a team and shit
So I guess, I just have to join a gang
Damn my appetite for tough shit
Come on with me
Tack me up baby, get me up
Ace Nigga in the front
Me trey in me back and me stay strapped
Bail and hangin'
Doin' a little dirt with my niggas
While we flirt with some skirts
You know some hookers
But we stay with it, yeah, we flip it
We find us, a motherfuckin' Chevy
Then we dip it
Then they asked me: "Why you're in the game
Rollin' S-classes, humpin' Kokane?"
Yeah, see you're lookin' at my
Hoochie it's about that time
That me rollin' with my clique
Pimp Clinic hittin' dodo sticks
Cause bitches be sayin: "Hey
Mr gold Wire player
Won't you come out to be my hoe layer?"
Nah bitch
I'll be sittin' at the dock of the bay
Wating for the snow to roll in, split end
It's Kokane a k
A the black hopper
Surrounded by the black teamsters
With triple beamers
Cause sometimes it gets so hard
To slang yo stuff what you said KMG?
Chocolate nuts
And I'm lookin' for them hookers
With them big chocolate butts
To come get naked while we
Laugh about my jail record
Gimmie' the drawers girl, so check it
As I flow watch my bottom drop
And I be fillin' my top
Hittin' you up on your block hard hard hard
Hard hard hard hard hard hard
Hoping there's a change
They wanna stop gangsta rap but
They're kind of late
Cause I've been kickin' gangsta shit
For 7 years straight
And best believe makin' the end, ugh
Puttin' in work for my niggas in the pen
Cause see
Once upon a time I had a cabin sack
I start flossin' and flossin'
And never got tracked smokin' weed everyday
And making funky beats for my
Niggas around the way
Yeah, now I think I'm worth millions
And your white folks mad cause
I'm sellin' to your childrens
By the ounce and by the key
They don't wanna be like Mike
They wanna be like me
What's happenin' in the ghetto ain't
Happenin' in Bel Air
And I'm from California, not Delaware
So boo yaa, boo yaa, boo yaa
What's happenin' partner?
Ugh, I'm all in this track and
I'mma break you off somethin' proper
Cause I'm the C-O-L-D
Original 187 in the place to be
So when you see me
You better give me my props
Or get popped by the 44 and
Lined out in Shot sippin'
And for me, see that's a promise
I ain't trippin' boy, I'm just honest, ugh
I kick back, relax
Cause I'm fat and all that when I attack
It's like a swing of a Baseball bat
Don't appose me, cause I live my life cosy
If I had a ring I'll be around rosie
Lived my early years straight like a hoodlum
No time for women cause
I've never understood them
They wanted to hold me
Stretch me in Coupe De
Rather have my forties an just
Groove in my hoopty
Comin' down your block, your street
Comin' down your avenue
Check that gratitude, check my attitude
You wanna run up, you got your gun up
Fool, what's up?
Shit, you betta not even hiccup
Cause if you do, I'mma break your jaw
Loc, Kokane and Above the Law
Puttin' in work like some old Vietnam vets
What we set, gettin' more more respects
With residuals as individuals sad as pitiful
That you can't get a hook
Of Tone Loc kickin' that raw
Shit for your life
West Side Tribe and Black Mafia Life