[Intro:] Creep, creep, I'm on the creep The creep for the kind bud O.C. late night, rolling in the v-dub Sick of scraping resin so I'm looking for a sack All I learn, I'll head for burn BSO's got my back Right on, right on brother, blaze on You better rip that shit, rip it It's that 1605 shit, real Huntington Beach Backyard fucking, garage style
[Chorus:] Bump, bump, bump That's the sound of the fifteens while they're hitting in my trunk Said bump, bump, bump We're the Kottonmouth Kings and we don't give a fuck
[(Verse) Saint Dog:] Well I'm that pig that the bitches talk about Saint's what they shout, you got all the clout A day in the life of a Kottonmouth King, 1605 (fool pass me the thing) Now the stereo is off, I sway, push play You hear Humble Gods from a mile away All the heads are bobbing because the base is bumping D-Loc is mumbling, (I got a little something) Well he passed me a hornet and I took a sip Sparked up a bowl and I took a rip, trip Came to halt at an intersection Turned up the music at my discretion D-Loc in the back said what do I see A jeep full of freaks just staring at me D-Loc was right; they were in a range rover Looked over my shoulder, I pulled them all over They got out the car and stepped to my side I said, hello ladies let's take a ride I'm Saint Dog, that's D-Loc the man Daddy X is the one that's driving the van So climb on in and don't be shy We're gonna close the doors and let the games be fly Once again I said it, my name's SD It's just another day of a P-T-B Come on, come on
[Chorus x2]
Saint Dog putting it down for suburban pride
[(Verse) Saint Dog:] I was living my life on a nine to five Up early in the morning trying to survive Chump change, it's a shame, with no education No inspiration, no destination, But now my occupation is to do what I like Keep the crowd moving and rock the mic Because if I don't rock it, then another sucker will And if you don't jock it, then I can't pay the bills Trick Daddy X threw me out on stage Said Saint, represent for the underage Same damn year, my face is up and raised Got that ring in my nose labeled sixteen gauge
[D-Loc:] No Saint dog, I hunt ducks with a twelve gauge And when I'm on the stage, yes I get get real blazed Get me on the court my skills will put you in a maze T-T-T-twicking a twine all day Come on, come on
[Chorus x3]
D-Loc's on the mic, rip rip shit up
[(Verse) D-Loc:] It's the unpolitical, psychoanalytical, Undefeated Champ that will stick you fool My style is crazy, not wooka wakka lazy If you chill with me I'll be sure to (blaze thee) Plant you in the ground; let you drift like a daisy That shit's in my system makes my life kind of hazy My momma, my poppa, I think I should tell them The J gots my head, and fucked up my cerebellum It's about time to compute your math Because my beats keep bumping like a seismograph See I've tripped before, but never like this Straight to my mind, put my brain in a bliss I wont fake the funk, when I'm smoking on a skunk That forty bowl evil got my peacock drunk And like Mickey Mantle, I can switch my stance I'm a supercharged baller that's electrically enhanced My flows are silky soft, like I'm writing them in lotion And I'm a lyricist, that's poetry in motion To each town, to each house, I cause mass commotion Cops smellin' money takin' off with my portion Farewell to all and to all goodnight I'm leaving these ?? out all night Wait wait wait you said ?? that shit will fuck you up Get off the ?? and rock the bump Come on
[Chorus x1]
Biotch!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
