90s Rap Mashup (Acoustic)

Stop, drop, shut 'em down, open up shop singin'
Oh, no, that's how Ruff Ryders roll

I'm goin' down down baby, yo' street in a Range Rover
Street sweeper baby, cocked ready to let it go
Shimmy shimmy cocoa wha'? Listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now

I got that wood grain with the leather seats
I got the windows so dark you need a flashlight to see me
Smokin' on that doja
Four of my buddies in the back screamin', "No limit soldiers!"

One, two, three and to the fo'
Snoop Doggy Doggy, Dr. Dre is at the do'
Ready to make an entrance so back on up
Because you know we're about to rip stuff up
Give me the microphone first so I can bust it like a bubble
LA and Nashville together, man you know you in trouble
Ain't nuthin' but a G thang, baby
Y'all locked out people so we're crazy

I remember walking you from school and homies hate me
But I ain't trippin' cause I knew one day girl you'll be my lady
You'll probably have my babies I know it sounds crazy
But thugs need love and if you real girl save me

Wake up, wake up, wake up it's the 1st of tha month
Get up, get up, get up cash your checks and get up
Wake up, wake up, wake up it's the 1st of tha month
Get up, get up, get up everybody singin'

Give me two pairs
'Cause I need two pairs
So I can get to stompin' in my Air Force Ones
Get to stompin' in my Air Force Ones

Give me two pairs
'Cause I need two pairs
So I can get to stompin' in my Air Force Ones
Get to stompin' in my Air Force Ones

Colt 45 and two Zigzags
Baby, that's all we need
And we can go to the park after dark
We can smoke that tumbleweed
As the marijuana burn we can take our turn
Singin' them dirty rap songs
So stop and hit the bong like Cheech and Chong
Sellin' tapes from here to Hong Kong

So roll, roll, roll my joint
Pick out the seeds and stems
Feeling high as hell, flyin' through Palmdale
Skatin on Dayton rims
So roll, roll, the '83
Cadillac Coupé De Ville
If my tapes and my CDs just don't sell
I bet my Caddy will

I wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on my Impala
Calla' gettin' paid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway
Making money the fly away
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

Boys and girls, wanna hear a true story
Saturday night I was at this real wild party
They had the liquor overflowing the cup
About five or six strippers trying to work for a buck
And I took one girl outside with me
Her name was Maria, she went to junior high with me
I said, "Why you up in there dancing for cash?
I guess a whole a lot's changed since I seen you last."
She said

"What would you do if your son was at home
Crying all alone on the bedroom floor
And he's hungry
And the only way to feed him is to
Sleep with a man for a little bit of money
And his daddy's gone
Somewhere smokin' rock now, in and out of lockdown
I ain't got a job now
So for you this is just a good time
But for me this is what I call life"



Credits
Writer(s): Ali Jones, Mark Williams, Cornell Haynes, Joe Kent, Tohri Harper, Robert Cleveland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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