Coolio, Troy “Talkbox” Mason, 40 Thevz - One Mo lyrics
[Coolio, Troy “Talkbox” Mason, 40 Thevz - One Mo lyrics]
I got one mo switch I can hit
I got one mo bullet in my clip
I got one mo drink I can steal
I got one mo sack I can twist
I wear a "S" on my chest i prefer my vest
And if the chronic run out, loc
Pass the stress
Cause all I wanna do is just roll my things
Turn up the alphine and let
The woofers bang bang
To the boogie say up jump the boogie
He was tryin' to get a grip on my cookies
I shook thee i coulda took him
But he wadn't even worth a bullet
I had my finger on the trigger
But I couldn't pull it
From defamation to desimation
Every day is like summer vacation
A nigga couldn't wait for somethin good
To put in yo Kenwood
Turn it up to twenty-one
And bop it in your hood
I'm a eastside nigga (Nigga)
Gotta have sprilla (Sprilla)
Do or die, low down, real life killa (Killa)
They comin' through the hold on tip toe
You swear, so i gotta get your grip, ho
Yes, yes, y'all (Yes y'all)
40 Thevz in the house, with a fifth y'all
(Fifth y'all)
Better recognize a tennis shoe pimp, y'all
(Pimp y'all)
When I'm rollin' through your hood
In my six, ohhhh, that be you
When our four colors rock, front and ass out
All the riders shake and smile when
They see me hit the block
Your sounds ain't beatin
So your girls ain't freakin
Watch your fly, got the whole post meetin
Hit 'em in their eyes and go suicides
Later, pump them on the ground just
To show 'em what it's like
To hit the mic for a licken
Hell no, I ain't trippin
Cause I kinda like pimpin
Bein' freer than a pigeon
Got your bitch down in positions
All kinda ways
40 Thevz pimpin these suckas till they graze
So, come with these weak flows if you must
But I got a hundred and twenty-one
Mo rounds I can bust
Put the pep in yo step and
The glide in your stride like Clyde
Drexler, this is eastside
Westa, recognize the routine
Mo jackers and packers than the
Super Bowl ring team
So, why you tellin me to sell a key of yayo
That's how you give a fellow need like Jayo
We lay low all up in the cut
If it's suicide then roll the bustas up
And I'mma hit 'em up like uppercut
Better shuffle yo feet like double dutch
Now the party didn't start til I walked in
And it probably won't end til I sip Hen
But in the meantime and in between time
Better tuck in your chin
And learn to take your lumps and grin
You know you can't wait cause
I'mma stay on one
One switch, one sack, one sip
But I ain't done
I got one mo bullet in my clip
I got one mo drink I can steal
I got one mo sack I can twist
I wear a "S" on my chest i prefer my vest
And if the chronic run out, loc
Pass the stress
Cause all I wanna do is just roll my things
Turn up the alphine and let
The woofers bang bang
To the boogie say up jump the boogie
He was tryin' to get a grip on my cookies
I shook thee i coulda took him
But he wadn't even worth a bullet
I had my finger on the trigger
But I couldn't pull it
From defamation to desimation
Every day is like summer vacation
A nigga couldn't wait for somethin good
To put in yo Kenwood
Turn it up to twenty-one
And bop it in your hood
I'm a eastside nigga (Nigga)
Gotta have sprilla (Sprilla)
Do or die, low down, real life killa (Killa)
They comin' through the hold on tip toe
You swear, so i gotta get your grip, ho
Yes, yes, y'all (Yes y'all)
40 Thevz in the house, with a fifth y'all
(Fifth y'all)
Better recognize a tennis shoe pimp, y'all
(Pimp y'all)
When I'm rollin' through your hood
In my six, ohhhh, that be you
When our four colors rock, front and ass out
All the riders shake and smile when
They see me hit the block
Your sounds ain't beatin
So your girls ain't freakin
Watch your fly, got the whole post meetin
Hit 'em in their eyes and go suicides
Later, pump them on the ground just
To show 'em what it's like
To hit the mic for a licken
Hell no, I ain't trippin
Cause I kinda like pimpin
Bein' freer than a pigeon
Got your bitch down in positions
All kinda ways
40 Thevz pimpin these suckas till they graze
So, come with these weak flows if you must
But I got a hundred and twenty-one
Mo rounds I can bust
Put the pep in yo step and
The glide in your stride like Clyde
Drexler, this is eastside
Westa, recognize the routine
Mo jackers and packers than the
Super Bowl ring team
So, why you tellin me to sell a key of yayo
That's how you give a fellow need like Jayo
We lay low all up in the cut
If it's suicide then roll the bustas up
And I'mma hit 'em up like uppercut
Better shuffle yo feet like double dutch
Now the party didn't start til I walked in
And it probably won't end til I sip Hen
But in the meantime and in between time
Better tuck in your chin
And learn to take your lumps and grin
You know you can't wait cause
I'mma stay on one
One switch, one sack, one sip
But I ain't done