Wikimusic
songs
genres
artists
login
editing version: v1 Lyrics
instrument type
version name
PDF contents
ascii legend
ascii contents
[Intro: Michael Marshall] Creep on in, on in, on in Woah See, I'm ridin' high, woah Kinda broke this evening, y'all, so all I got is five, I got five [Verse 1: Yukmouth] Player, give me some brew and I might just chill But I'm the type that like to light another joint like Cypress Hill I steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it I got some bucks on it, but it ain't enough on it Go get the S, the T, I-D-E-S Nevertheless, I'm hella fresh, rollin' joints like the cigarette So pass it 'cross the table like ping pong I'm gone, beatin' my chest like King Kong It's on, wrap my lips around the forty And when it comes to getting another stogie Fools all kick in like Shinobi (Shinobi) No, he ain't my homie to begin with It's too many heads to be poppin' to let my friend hit Bit Unless you pull out the fat, crispy Five-dollar bill, on the real, before it's history 'Cause fools be havin' them vacuum lungs And if you let 'em hit it for free, you hella dumb, da-dumb-dumb I come to school (Nyoom) with the Taylor on my earlobe Avoidin' all the dick teasers, skeezers and weirdos That be blowin' off the land like, "Where the bomb at?" Give me two bucks, you take a puff and pass my bomb back Suck up that dank like a Slurpee, the serious Bomb will make a niggy go delirious like Eddie Murphy I got more growin' pains than Maggie 'Cause homies nag me to take the dank out of the baggie
edit