DJ Quik, Chuckey - Streets Iz Callin' lyrics

I see I gotta play another game, so
If I’mma go out, I’mma go out right
You know’m sayin’?
(Talk to ‘em, dog) Cool wit’ it all

I’m untouchable (yeah)
I’m on a plane, Calcutta bound
Meeting with them people from that
Sample we done turned around
Trying to stop the war with a
Hardcore dancefloor type of lesson
‘Cause the truth will hurt forever more
Now what’s my punishment? (What?)
You mean to tell me I could get sued for
Making sure my people have some fun and shit?
(Damn) it’s a funny game
It’s like the time that ol’
Boy got Pac, and me
And Jackie kicked off that Houston plane
For drinking Remy Martin
Acting up and starting
And that’s all I got to say about that pardon
‘Cause that’s a binge frenefit
Nigga been the shit
I fucked around and did business with
Niggas on some friend shit
But to no avail, this is show and tell
Only thing I ever got for
Working was a broken nail
That’s all I really know about the streets
It’s the hustle, get hustled
Get down or get beat

Wake up in some herbs this morning
And I can hear the streets, they’re calling
Wake up in the pool this morning
I can feel the vibes, they’re calling

Now I done helped a lot of
Enemies that didn’t deserve it
That’s probably why I be the one that
You won’t see at their service
We swerve and never nervous
(Never) I’m a daredevil
Just ask the homie Pervis, nigga
We on their level
Ain’t nothin’ gon’ stop the
Flowing, and the 4-4’ing, and showing
That I done been a corporation
When y’all was still growing
Niggas say I fell off, ha
(Fell off?) They gotta say that
That give ‘em false security to
Think they demo ain’t wack
Nigga, I’m standing on a bottle
Looking over the fence
Trippin’ off this bullshit that we up against
Crippin’ is mainstream, pimpin’ is ballfield
The truth is stranger than a
Lie but it’s all real
I’m a mack from the P-card, a G, a star
A rider, a rebel, independent, believe we are
Trying to forget about my past, that’s all
Open a bottle of Cristal and pass it to y’all
Now what up? Where the riders at?

Wake up in some herbs this morning
And I can hear the streets, they’re calling
Wake up in the pool this morning
I can feel the vibes, they’re calling

Stomp out my house on the hill
To El Villa Negril the Mediterranean
Pay me and I’m back at the wheel
In Montego Bay, drinking with G, Dr b
Chuckey mack a fe’
Watch her climbing up the coconut tree
Suga Free is no sweeter
Than the bitterest fruit's
Blame it on Compton and my niggerish roots
I’m down to kick a hater
With the biggest of boots
It’s not about the strap, it’s
‘bout the nigga issues, fool
I’m SuperCalifornialisticexpeal-a
Creep around the city in a red Impala
Short-tempered nyggas get stuck and die wet
And short-money nyggas speak
A different dialect
So give me my Cris’, give me my hit's
Give me my bitch
Give me my spliff, give me my fifth
Give me my gift
Tropical skin color, nice and thin mother
Of my virtual kids because I
Hump in thin rubbers now

Wake up in some herbs this morning
I can hear the streets, they’re calling
Wake up in the pool this morning
I can feel the vibes, they’re calling