DJ Quik - Catch 22 lyrics

Ain't nothin like poppin the
Brains on a Corvette
With your pet in the passenger seat
Ass at your feet
Askin if you can pass her the weed
(Faster please) California masterpiece
Recorded partially in New York
With a blue spark on a purple
Plant and I worked your aunt
(She loved it) primarily
Under the circumstance
Don't be mad, I was bad, she was better
Sweaty palms but I bet her and she told
Your moms and wrote a letter
Now they comin back to get off of the curb
Because I swerved on her (beat it bitch)
I ain't never been shit
That's what my mommy said
Now they callin to check to see if I
Took the gun from under my bed
She don't trust me, I don't trust me


My psychiatrist don't trust me
And I ain't called 'em back
I hope the cops don't come and bust me
I'm feelin lusty and my purple
Video tape is trusty
But I can't go to sleep with lotion
On because I might get musty
I ride motorcycles and crash 'em on purpose
Into a crowd of bystanders so my
Insurance policy won't be worthless

Now quit that bitch shit
We gon' fuck you up mayne
We gon' fuck you up mayne
Now get the fuck outta Dodge
It ain't gon' work mayne
We gon' fuck you up mayne
We gon' fuck you up mayne
Don't make me pull the pump out the garage
And posse up mayne, we gon' fuck you up mayne
We gon' fuck you up mayne
You must be high on that sherm
But you gon' learn mayne
We gon' fuck you up mayne
We gon' fuck you up - WE GON' FUCK YOU UP!

Bridget Bridget Bridget was a
Girl that I knew but she's a dumb hoe
And baldheaded like DJ Pooh
Her saggy body tried to crash
The party like Mobb Deep
With her elephant feet
I got a whole lot to say
But it won't come out
Probably because I got this 38 in my mouth
And I'm pissed, I'm 'bout to nut up
Fuck you nigga shut up like Mausberg
I'll leave your chest burnin on the curb
Hennessy to XO, crashed in the Lex-o
I make the bridge flex 'til
These bitch niggaz let go
And I'm upset because I'm all alone
Homies don't play by the rules
Fuck 'em then I'm glad they gone
Pluck 'em out the flowerpot
Flush and make they shower hot
Blister and scour, I'm
Pistol-whippin with power
Make 'em holla like chicks
Out in LA ain't nuttin good to talk about
Except dead homies
And how in '82 we had all the money
That's Freeway Rick and that CIA shit
22 years later
It's just some ol' player hater shit
How many gangs can kill people
Under the age of 12
Get snitched on and go to jail
For another 22 years
And who gets recognized for
Pouring out the beer
And how many young blacks drink and
Smoke to cover they fear it's fucked up

I made my momma a promise that
I would make it home honest
She knew that there were no problems cause
She could see right through it
She know I'm deeper than
Half of these niggaz, flyer than most of 'em
And that's as clear as you can
See from off in your coast
And you niggaz don't understand these
16 bars from within
If being dope is an abomination
Then I am a sin cause I'm fly like the wind
And I'm high to the end
My enemies are my used-to-be friends
Where do I begin it's a sesspool of stress
You cowards drink from the well
Got no energy for haters
You suckers can't give me hell
Cause you whack and you stale
And you act like you bail
You talk that shit 'til you gotta prove shit
Get smacked when you fail
In the midst of it all
I'm just persistin to ball
While these haters tumble and stumble
And bumble and fall
I'm the key to cut your meter off
I'll blow what you worth
And befo' anything else on this earth
- you'll get fucked up!