West Coast Bad Boyz - Pop Lockin' II lyrics

West Coast, Bad Boyz!

Pop lockin in my Rolls Royce, Cadillac
Lincoln and Mercedes Benz
Pop lockin at the Howard Johnson, Sheraton
Pop lockin at the Holiday Inn

Yeah, Tha Dogg Pound is back again
Makin it pop cause it's after 10
Hypin it up, who else could do it - but us?
Silkk, Gold, Snoop, be Daz & Kurupt, what up!
Ain't No Limit to what I could do
I show and prove to do just what I do
That's what I do, and dust ya whole crew
I gangsta walk, that's how I spark the C
And I do it that's on DPG
Hollered at P then chopped it
Up just like a ki
We chillin in the place to be
Yeah homie, and that's on me
Big paper big thangs big house big change


Homie this a West coast thang, ha ha
Peel out then skate pancake three-wheel
Drop the top
Watch the girls straight jock, y'know (ha ha)
Dogg Pound make the world go 'round
Long Beach keep puttin it down
With that West coast sound

Pop lockin in my Rolls Royce, Cadillac
Lincoln and Mercedes Benz
Pop lockin at the Howard Johnson, Sheraton
Pop lockin with all my friends
(with all my friends)
It's that West coast way we're livin

It's that West coast way we're livin

(Oh boy)
The gangsters bang, do that damn thang
Me and my nephew, Dogghouse keep it true
(Dogghouse WHAT?)
Roll that weed, pass that drank
Holla at your nigga baby bring your bank
Ha ha (Ha ha, from the South to the West)
Why must I, chase the cat? If you was me
And I was you
You'd probably floss on a nigga
Burnin rubber in a '52
Most bitches do and most niggas do too
In the land where it's all
About the red and blue
But me, I'd rather get the greenery
And smoke out the whole motherfuckin scenery

Now why must I, C like that
With the mariella Chucks, draped in all black
Take 'em back like the
Pop-lock in Kangol suit's

Showin love from the soldiers
From the red to the blue

From the home of the rip riders
C-Dogs and bionic to the South where them
NIAz be "Bout It, Bout It"
It's that bandana general
Burnin 'em like a venereal
We'll do this with no serial
G'd up and twistin 'em
Sittin on twenty-two's as I tilt
Bangin corners wit my locs P and Silkk
Quick to bank ya
It's the brown paper bag dranker
On the remix, Dub C keep it gangsta

It ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
You know what we brang
No Limit and Dogghouse
Ain't nuttin but a G thang bayy bay
You know, we think to win
Y'all think money soften us
Y'all better thank again
Cause if it ain't about money
Then why would I bother?
If she ain't keepin it real
Then why would I holla?

We the West Coast Bad Boyz
No we don't brag boy
Pimpin on the corner gettin cheese
T-shirt khakis and jeans
And all the thugs know where we be
It's the W to the Rizzo
This one for my nizzle
The think they thizzle it ain't
No Limit to my strizzle

Yeah the left coast mayne, y'know
Players comin together
Like siamese twins mayne - Y'KNO!
(Forty Fonzarelli uhh)

Uhh - it's gang involved
Been doin the damn thi dang since
Kermit the Frog was a pollywog
(A pollywog! Uhh) The player
Wit all the lingo
The rap game without me is like
Old folks without bingo
It's the ambassador of the bay
Fo' shiggido my niggidy
It's E-Forty Fonzariggido off the higgado
Straight up out that Valle-Jo
Northern California
Do you recognize pee-imp?

Where the parkin lot pimps at?
Where you at, where the pimpin rats at yo?
Where you at yo? Mo' it up
Throw it up - where the pop-lockers at?
Put your hands up!

Whoaawhoaawhoaa it's how we're livin