Richie Cunning - Work It Out lyrics
[Richie Cunning - Work It Out lyrics]
What up City, what's happening?
This your man, Richie Cunning
The Frisco Inferno, the son
Of a preacher man, namean?
I'm saying if you feelin' this right here
Then go ahead with it man c'mon
It goes 1 for the soul and 2 for the City and
3 for all liquor that costs a buck-fifty
Who the intruder in the
Corner straight swiggin'?
Dirt doer and connoisseur of grave-diggin'
Please believe I'm ready to throw down
For any sucker punk not knowin' my home town
I'll give you one hint, homie
It ain't Kansas
The name of the city I claim is St francis
Filthy rich, don't never trust coppers
Raw on the record for all
Of you tough talkers
Call me the rough ope rator
Pass the I'll tech you how to puff proper
I do damage to your rock box
Style is foul delivery stays top notch
You don't believe me? Bitch
Break out the stopwatch
And see how quick I get the
Party jumpin' like it's hopscotch
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout
Yeah, allow me to elaborate
I keep your lady's tail
Shakin' like a rattlesnake
I'm OG, me and you think different
You do shows for fame
I do 'em for drink tickets
You got style, but you're nothing like Richie
Pockets type flat fingers type sticky
Matter of fact, I don't have no equipment
So when I'm done rippin' I'm
Taking the mic with me
Why these fools always trying to start shit
With the Rec League chief
Of the fire department?
They talkin' soon as I walk in the building
Dudes hawking me like Dominique Wilkins
Take a good look, sucker
When I took the stage
Other rappers took cover
The Cracker-Jack crook, bad news bear
Sellin' CDs to make some bus fare, c'mon!
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout
Lord have mercy i tried to tell 'em but
They must've not heard me
I know everybody from the Bay to the bricks
But when the cops show up, I don't know shit
Hotter than a pot of grilled chicken
You think your style's raw, man
My shit is still kickin'
From the Bay area back to Uptown
Stand up and get sat the fuck down
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout
This your man, Richie Cunning
The Frisco Inferno, the son
Of a preacher man, namean?
I'm saying if you feelin' this right here
Then go ahead with it man c'mon
It goes 1 for the soul and 2 for the City and
3 for all liquor that costs a buck-fifty
Who the intruder in the
Corner straight swiggin'?
Dirt doer and connoisseur of grave-diggin'
Please believe I'm ready to throw down
For any sucker punk not knowin' my home town
I'll give you one hint, homie
It ain't Kansas
The name of the city I claim is St francis
Filthy rich, don't never trust coppers
Raw on the record for all
Of you tough talkers
Call me the rough ope rator
Pass the I'll tech you how to puff proper
I do damage to your rock box
Style is foul delivery stays top notch
You don't believe me? Bitch
Break out the stopwatch
And see how quick I get the
Party jumpin' like it's hopscotch
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout
Yeah, allow me to elaborate
I keep your lady's tail
Shakin' like a rattlesnake
I'm OG, me and you think different
You do shows for fame
I do 'em for drink tickets
You got style, but you're nothing like Richie
Pockets type flat fingers type sticky
Matter of fact, I don't have no equipment
So when I'm done rippin' I'm
Taking the mic with me
Why these fools always trying to start shit
With the Rec League chief
Of the fire department?
They talkin' soon as I walk in the building
Dudes hawking me like Dominique Wilkins
Take a good look, sucker
When I took the stage
Other rappers took cover
The Cracker-Jack crook, bad news bear
Sellin' CDs to make some bus fare, c'mon!
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout
Lord have mercy i tried to tell 'em but
They must've not heard me
I know everybody from the Bay to the bricks
But when the cops show up, I don't know shit
Hotter than a pot of grilled chicken
You think your style's raw, man
My shit is still kickin'
From the Bay area back to Uptown
Stand up and get sat the fuck down
Yeah, now just work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
Baby, you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, we gonna work it out
Now baby you better work it out
A-yes yes y'all, I said work it out
If you know what I'm talkin' bout