1.Paper Trippin'
Wc
Miscellaneous
Paper Trippin'
Paper Trippin'
Wc
(Rush Hour 2)
Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all？ Dub C
Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down
Whassup Nate？
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla
dollars)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider
riders)
Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah)
Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need
Check it out
What they hittin fo'？ Look I'm sick of all this chattin
Bullshit rappin, let's really get it a-crackin
Y'all niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper
Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors
Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces
Blue gators (？), X.O. by the cases
The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin
Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya
Off brand assassin-er, jackin for figures c'mon
Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender
The purple tinter, the big spender
The realest nigga you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno
Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys
Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties
Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide
nation
Tippin on paper trippin nia
Big beans or big wings or big screens
Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams
I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em
Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan
Riders don't worry multiply shift gears
Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high
The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all
So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all
Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang
A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs
Fuck the pain, give me a label ain't shit funny
Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money
Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich
And get my dick licked by the baddest bitch
Fade ya, real boy major with tough shit they ain't got
like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin
Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars)
.. I need
Testin testin, broadcastin live
All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine
No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow
Gots to get my hands on that new body style
Floss all you nigga, toss liquor up
A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette butt
Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up
Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough
Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust
Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up
Hands down I'm the motherfuckin man
Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance
Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants
with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, nigga
Worldwidin, ridin, collidin
Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin
Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous
Comin through with fingers in the air
Y'all know what time it is
2.Ghetto Serenade
作詞：William Calhoun, George Jr Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Carlos
Ward, Bernard Worrell
Back in the days when I was tryin' to come up in the rap game
Drivin' a bucket, livin' in a shack
Tryin' to make the best out of what I had, usin' a pen and pad
There was this girlie that I wanted to get with
Who never gave me no play, because I wasn't rollin'
She said I was too ghetto and that a brother from the ghetto
Couldn't give her nothin' but hard times and trouble
But bein' I was young and dumb
And just thinkin' bout the putang, had me sprung
I used to play myself late at night goin' over her house,
drinkin 40s
Standin' on the front porch singin' oldies
And even though her father used to run me away
I used to creep around the side and hit the back gate
Tappin' on her window, givin' her the ghetto serenade
And it went this way
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
I used to ask her all the time, 'Yo, why do you play me？'
It shouldn't matter that I didn't drive a Mercedes
She said that I was probably only good for makin' babies
And my physical appearance makes me look crazy
She said that, 'You look like you bang, or maybe even slang
And if you wanna be with me, you gotta rearrange'
But I wasn't 'bout to get a flattop or go in a suit
And come back in a new BMW
She said her parents wouldn't approve of the way that I looked,
see
And plus you got nothin' to give me
You wanna get laid？ You gotta keep me paid
That's when she lost me, man, 'cause I ain't payin' for the
ying-yang
And even though I'm feelin' bad
I feel like this, I can't miss what I never had
So I gave it a last shot and right before I walked away
I hit her with the ghetto serenade
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
A few years later, now my dues are paid up
I got a record out, now I'm rollin' in big bucks
Flyin' all around the world, meetin' many girls
Everywhere that I go and makin' rap videos
And signin' autographs the other day
I looked up and guess who was comin' my way？
The same old girl who never gave me no rhythm
But this time standin' in the middle of five children
She done got fat, and now she's lookin' like the cookie monster
to me
Walkin' around with the saggy booty
And runnin' that drag about how I done matured so much
And why I haven't kept in touch？
I started laughin' in her face, 'cause to me it was funny
Now she wanted me for my money
So I turned my back to her and I walked away
Leavin' her singin' the ghetto serenade
And here's what she had to say
You've got somethin' that keeps my head in a spin
You've got somethin' that makes me wanna give in
You've got somethin' that turns my head all around
You've got somethin' that takes me all down
Hey Dub, man, what's up, man？
You done got these braids off your head
Got rid of those khaki pants
Man, you sure have matured, man
How about gettin' your telephone number？
What's up with that, man？
Just 'cause I wasn't givin' you no rhythm
That wasn't my fault, man, lookin' so good, man
3.The One
Songwriters：Calhoun, Lamar; Calhoun, William; Toussaint, Allen
Sing it
For the niggaz with the bumps
Bump, c'mon, ba-bump
Comin through the alley with a trunk full of funk
Nigga who is you？
Who me？ Oh, I be that nigga from back in the days
Once again up in ya, Ain't a Damn Thing Changed
Ahh, stage left with the right angle even
We got the MAAD Circle in the house dis evenin
Get down, and ya don't quit
Yeah yeah, that's it damn nigga, rock this shit, rock it
Aight, check one one, peep the blizzo
My trademark, chanky as fuck, with the slow funky tempo (what？)
Bumpin, straight bumpin, neck thumpin
Stick out your tongue motherfuckers I'm comin
Hardcore's the way that I swing yo
Back in eighty-eight I used to flow for the crew Low Pro
A seven year vet still strong as malt liquor
So mirror mirror who's the motherfuckin nigga？
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Now when I look in the mirror, what do I see？
Besides a shady-ass nigga slash rapper one of the first to stab
ya
Up up and away think quick oh now, images start to click
I see your reflection, description young male holdin his
dillznick
Chest out like Popeye, deadly as Magic Johnson
Droppin my third album, back for more like Charles Bronson
Rhymes (what？) hey, hey, I got a million of em
Takin this so-called gangster rap to another level
The capital W to the motherfuckers C-me in a beanie
All-star so clean, saggin with my Turkish earring
Down with the mad-ass zoo, I thought you knew
I bring flavor to the picture, the motherfuckin nigga
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Horns...
Bring the beat back, bring that beat back, yeah
Like that so I can fuck it up and treat it as if it was a four
track
Locked down for years now releasin myself
Lettin my testicles swing from right left left right then back
to the left
It's that quickster, mad hister, nigga looka
Beast known to make you give your motherfuckin hood up
Cooler than a chollo, gettin my stroll on
Goin solo, fuck all you niggaz should be my logo
Bitches wasn't down now wannabe on my team
Cause I'm kickin raps tighter than Leroy on Fame jeans
But they gets nathin but dug out like a booger
Cause like Abdullah on Car Wash, I'm hip to the game of hookers
Put the, put, put the needle back in time
And I can still remember when niggaz wouldn't let me rhyme
Beat it Cleotus I used to hear it from record labels
No doubt, deep down knowin I take all they artists out
But check me out now nigga, you can't stop the reign
Here to reclaim the fame
It's the four fingers up, two twisted in the middle
So who's the nigga, mirror mirror solve the riddle
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Fuck that, I'm the one, shit
Horns...
Am I the flyest nigga？
Let it ride
4.Intro
＊helicopter flies overhead＊
And there goes the suspect, he saw us now
＊police siren＊
＊chopper still flying around＊
＊chains rustling＊
Coolio, c'mon man, hurry up!
＊chopper makes another pass＊
＊somebody whistles＊
＊chains rustling＊
＊siren stops＊
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
＊whispered 'fuck em'＊
Front em, front em!!
Yeahhhh, beeaaaa!!
Back up in the mutha-fucka
Crawlin up the letter to skanless
Givin it up, straight holdin my nuts
Dub-C nigga, still chanky as fuck
Fresh out, so fuck the world nigga
This is MAAD Circle to the fullest, everybody killa
Takin it back to the days of drum loops
And lyrical skills, before niggaz got record deals
The dope game, when beats was the product
And only those with mic control made a profit
Before the shady ass contracts and restrictions
When niggaz true to this ruled the underground connection
Back to the days of hardcore
So lock your doors, here comes the MAAD Circle
'You know, we do whatever we do to survive'
5.Feel Me
(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it) --＞ Ohio Players
Make ya feel me
I'm with this right here
Hey yo Toones, turn my headphones up
Turn em up nigga
I can't hear shit
Fuck them muthafuckas
Fuck that nigga
I'm in this muthafucka
Yeah nigga, right here
Freeze, nobody move, hands up
This ain't no muthafuckin game, niggas is gettin stuck
So uhm (uhm) get yo ass ready for the big beat bangin
(What？) dick danglin, pants saggin
Rank slangin while Toones spin the records
Going back, back, forth and back
It's that local janky-ass junkyard funk kickin
Purse-snatchin car-jackin Ripple-sippin
187, with the world I got beef
And I don't wanna hear no talk about peace
Cause I been lied to, cheated, dissed and mistreated
A victim of a sodomy to this record industry
So now it's on to the fullest, so get the bullets
Cause that's the only way y'all gon' stop me when I do this
Like ping, ba-ba-bam, straight to your jaw, fuck seein me
In '95 I'ma make sure you cowards feel me
(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it)
(Fo' hoppin, ass droppin) --＞ Ice Cube
(I wanna know do you feel it
Let me know do you feel it
Do you feel it)
(Fo' hoppin, ass droppin)
Feel me, feel me while I dip through your hood
Just mobbin and squabbin cause we up to no good
(No good) I got a MAAD-ass Circle full of gees
Rollin treys and fo's and El Caminos on D's
( ？ ) with the ( ？ ) amps
Bendin the corner as I floss all my Zeniths slide across
Lookin for my competition, if any
I'm burnin rappers like ( ？ ) mama burned Penny
But this ain't _Good Times_, it's nothin but hard times
And where I'm from, we kick nothin but rough rhymes
The M-A-A-D C-i-r-c-l-e
Slingshot khakis and a pair of wallabees
Three braids in my beard represents the year
Of another LP for those chose to sleep
Best to wake up, recognize, I comes with the real, Dub C
Doin dirt to make sure you muthafuckas feel me
Last verse, now how should I come with the wickedness？
Now I got you noddin to my bassline riff
Goin bump-bump-bump, the guitar strums
As I beat you down with the drums
The lyrical night stalker, still payin dues
And this year I'm servin many and anything that moves
So which one of y'all wanna run up
And be the first to get your whole dome ( ？ )
Fool, I'm makin noise like a Glock on your block
When I drop, ever since I popped it don't stop
And even if I stut-stu-tu-stuttered over the beat
I still can catch wreck, so don't try to compete
( ？ ) amateurs best to play the back
Or fuck around and get that ass rocked and rolled up like
Anthrax
This ain't no joke dudes, I pray for my enemy
(I pray for em) Lord have mercy when they feel me
( ＊adlibs＊ )
( ＊DJ Crazy Toones scratches＊ )
6.Dress Code
作詞：William Jr. Calhoun, Wayne Lamar Jackson, Andrew Love, A
Wheaton
You know what's makin' me mad？
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, unless you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these fools got a set of them thangs
Where if you ain't wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta gang
bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to order
And people starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they wallets in the back
And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the middle
Snake skin around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the package of crack
So what's the reason for the dirty looks？
Yo, check my name in your books
Seem like every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' up a questionnaire
'What's your name？' 'Where you're goin？'
'Yo, what gang are you from？'
They tell me 'Don't get smart' and so I play dumb
'Cause when I tell em where I stay, it doesn't get better
Live in South Central, they assume you got a jail record
A stereotypical attitude
That if you look like me, you gotta run with a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene everybody's gettin' petrol
No matter what the color
(What's up？)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps)
(That's why they dress just like suckers)
(Ha？)
(Suckers)
(What？)
(Suckers)
What is this, a prison？ I'm buggin' off the way that I'm livin'
Seems everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the position
At school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old thing
Here come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring
I don't carry a gun, though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em scared by the way that I dress
Unlike you I couldn't afford to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a fresh pair of Dickey's
So what you're tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my position's supposed to
look？
Get me a fade and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't give me a glance
A big funny lookin' hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes might keep me out of scraps
If I made that turn, it might save me some trouble
But I gotta watch my back, on the alert for a squabble
Don't go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up missin'
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still getttin' dissed
'Cause it's a scam or a phase of my life that I'm goin' through
If you dress like me, you gotta run with a crew
I'm tickin' like a time bomb, ready to explode
Even in my front yard
(What's up？)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas, no tennis shoes, no hats, no khakis, alright？)
Let's take a trip to the club scene
(Somebody tell me what's goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin' enemies for minimum wage
But they're the first ones to run when the club gets sprayed
Don't wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, then you gotta be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to hear a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I just entered a fashion
show)
Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my neighborhood
My hat's to the back, so I must be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back for the fact that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies
back)
Scared of me for what, no, I don't wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd bail in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole world it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can look like the rest？
Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't know what it means
Put on a African medallion, now they're down with the team
Penetratin' for a click, first they wouldn't, now they switched
But they ain't gettin' rich
(Ain't that a bitch？)
Go strike a GQ pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my video
(For what？)
'Cause they didn't like my dress code
7.Creator
This one here's for The Creator
'Trying to get over...' like Curtis Mayfield said
I was a problem child, running wild in the night
Livin on a not-so-safe set of life
Caught up in the rapture, quick to blast ya
Neglected as a juvenile, so labelled a 'ghetto bastard'
Forced to live the life of a hoodster on the prowl
Goin through my life with a permanent frown
But still you stood by me and you got me here safely
Never turned away from me when others lost faith in me
Even when I was a non-believer and doubted your existence
You still she'd mercy on my ignorance
How can I say this, no words can't explain
How much I thank you for helpin me deal with the pain
For sparin my life at times I thought I was through
All praise is due, here's to you
So
This is for the lover in you
This is for the things that you do
This time I will take up for you
Cause your love's gon' last forever
Now as I reminisce like Minnie Riperton in a Pendleton
I'm havin flashbacks 'lookin at these photographs'
Glancin at old flicks of me and my dogs
Thinkin how we all played little league football
No set-trippin, we was down for one another
＞From pups to mutts, we came up, Westside hustlers
You couldn't stop us, no matter what you told us
Starched Curduroys with the fresh peachy folders
Washington High School, damn, them was the days
The 12th grade came and we went our own ways
Doin what we had to do to make ends meet
Some of us went to college and some kicked the streets
Some of us passed away, some just faded
Some turned snitch, and some is incarcerated
Me, I been blessed to catch wreck over beats
But without you, this wouldn't be complete
So
(Ooh child, things ain't gettin any easier...)
Survivin in the ghetto you gotta stay strong
But realistically no man out here can make it alone
Ain't no sleepin, none of us creepin
I see the men that's in the streets, and
Smokers fiendin, the drama got me thinkin
How I need to play as if I was a Stylistic
And stop and look and listen
Take a second out to count my blessings
Cause you coulda laid me down a long time ago
But you let me live, and God knows I ain't a angel
So I'ma take this opportunity to flip the script
For the lover of you, cause props is due
For sparin my life at times I thougth I was through
I gotta give it up, here's to you
So
8.Bellin
作詞：William Jr Calhoun, George Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Brian
Douglas Wilson
Bellin strolling with a limp sagging hard
Mainly done by L.A. street niggas
Bellin is not just a casual stroll
But a way of life, a movement
First you take the rag, crease it
Place it in your back pocket and bell
But remember for all you square ass niggas
Rips to the left, doggs to the right
Not for niggas in tight ass jeans and penny loafers
But highly recommended for nigaas sporting
Khakis, house shoes and locs
Oh my God it can save us all
Yeah we back motherfucker
W.C. niia, niia, baam baam
Nigga keep the lights on
I gotta put it down
Keep it crackin' I'm sick of all this bullshit yacking
Y'all done fucked around and got the dub reacting
Lo-lows, broughams house shoes or roams
Once again it's on, nigga it's time to G on
When it comes to gangsta shit can't too many fuck with me
Hang with me or ride to the highest level of ridetivity
One to the neck, two to the neck
I'm sticking them leaving them scarred
Bitch niggas get rode of they yard
Hard get off that shit you lost that shit
See how many streets while you talk that shit
Fuck who billboard hanging
And who take you banging and slanging
I'm the hardest nigga in this game
Famin' the only one remaining but it's time for confrontation
The only one gon' swing them thangs an' swinging
With the Titanium flaming with my gun safety on FN
Fuck the whole world look I'm bellin
And now I got the remedy
To make you wanna come and ride with me
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk
I'm a keep banging that gangst ish
And none of y'all niggas can fuck with it
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk
Sick as they come, sick as thay come
W.C. got that bomb shit that'll numb your tongue
Fucking it up in my dum-da-da-dumbs
Not a dump-da-da-dumb off that wet one
Chucking up the finger but thumb
Scrap it clack-clack it and toss the liquor
Clip the barrel, hang out the window and get off on niggas
Snatch niggas, clap triggers
Leave you on the back of the grass niggas
Fuck all you rapping ass niggas
I'm a thank 'em let my nuts hang and dick dangle
Come in with the shit that will make you break them ankles
'Cause I'm an all season nigga leave yah leaking nigga
Disappear nigga we gonna be here
Been shifting gears and doing this shit for years
Off the liquor though really though
Fuck a video I'm getting in these hoes
Nigga fuck what you yellin', I'm bellin
And now I got the remedy
To make you wanna come and ride with me
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell from dawn to dusk
I'm a keep banging that gangstaish
And none of y'all niggas can fuck with it
You know I keeps it crackin' 'cause it's a must
'Cause this the way we bell form dawn to dusk
If you see me saggin', don't say nothing
It's just the way we bell
When you see these chucks
You know I don't give a fuck
It's just the way we bell
Roll 'em in wrote this song again
Pull 'em out and let them glide
Hang 'em high
Put 'em hankies in the sky
Out of town niggas what you need, hit me get with me
Get tuned in to the realist nigga in this city
And if you came to L.A.
You never reached out and touched us, trust us
Then you must have been fucking with Bustas
Hell yeah, I said it I'm a hog in this shit
'Cause before me was none of this walking shit
Keep it real when I was skipping on benzos and navies
Y'all was in tight ass pants with Murphys in your khakis
Ducking now all of a sudden niggas start give super crippin'
Nigga tuck in your chain and your tail in and shut the fuck up
And make way for these fellas, nigga, I'm bellin
9.Bang Loose
作詞：William Jr Calhoun, George Jr Clinton, Tony Pizarro, Garry
Marshall Shider, F Wilcox, Bernie Worrell
Off that ignorant, belligerent, gorilla people like mugilla
From the chickens, liver, stanky rivers like kitty liver
Take my finger out your putang you smelly Funkadelic
With Funkadelic reteric for you relics
(The buffalo fake the nigga street sweeper)
The Grim Reaper's grim reaper
I'm a Don like Magic Juan, off that sauvignon
The game sprays out of my mouth like a can of Krylon
Riverside to Saigon, I'm killing each track I rhyme on
You had tights on like you had nylons on
Boogie banga funked out panty stainer
Ghetto enough to get TV reception with a coat hanger
Smell me
Fake comedy for my accident done on purpose
About to set the fly one, down with the ghetto Hiesman
I'll serve niggaz in the third person don't even try it
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Timber, Hawk, it's the big hawk
Ready to chalk
With the boom ping, ping
That make the Dre swing, swing
Flipped and slipped and clipped equipped the trigger
Hit, click, click, click, click, click
Nigga, dissa, stealer, scrilla
Did-a anybody kill her？ I'm blasting
None of them like Danskin
Closing caskets chromed
Put my L.A. throat back on
It's back on and getting cheddar
In my ride with the blue feather, in linen
Strolling with the vengeance
And when I make that gun clap
Bitch, niggaz roll like pigeons
So if you claiming than brang it
And be about the drama
It's WC and I ain't your mama
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Nigga make way for the big bomber
Mr. all night rider, original bang hand glider
Scuffing up Chucks swiftly
Looking for a spot launch that mini mat
And that's a hard hat
Do it till I get you, pistol grip whip you
Nigga, your pitiful, picture me back burner material
Ditching your block when live while you work
'Cause it ain't no half repping
Either you riding or not, cock it or keep stepping
Come on, feel the breeze
What, y'all ain't know？ I got a squad so cold
We freeze all area codes, they need this, real Gs
Critical thesis bound to break shit down to quarter pieces
For real, Devil, the boss under the Dub
Swanging, giving orders to chickens and thugs
It ain't no bitch in this industry that flow like me
Matter fact, it ain't to many niggaz that can see me
For sure I've been none to loc for way too long
Now the spot lights on me, so believe me its on
Its funny the way I'm hated, always underrated
But ya'll hoes couldn't come with it if you masturbated
Niggaz wanna test me, I wish you would
Lyrics bang more harder than niggaz bang they hood
I come through unexpected like the in Vietnam grenades
Got so much heat I make the Devil run for shade
This ain't no game nigga, so don't fuck with T
Mess around and be headlining on Unsolved Mysteries
I got warrants for my arrest by the FBDs
A female fely in Burberry
Picking up money from the commissary
Don't fuck with Terry
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
Vaboom, he's back to putting in work
Vaboom, to make your neck and head jerk
Make 'em bang, bang, make 'em all move
Do the damn thing, my niggaz bang loose
WC, Dr. Stank, Devil, Lady T
Swang on, swang on
10.Gangsta's Make The World Go Round
作詞：Thom Bell, William Jr Calhoun, Linda Diane Creed, O'shea
Jackson, Dedrick Rolison, Cedrick Samson
I am gettin' dizzy as the world keeps spinnin' like a frisbee
Gangsta's and girls make the world twirl
No hesitation, I can run a nation from incarceration
30 years is what I'm facin' but give me 7 seas and 11 G's
I make enough cheese to bring wall street to its knees
Nigga, please I got enough guns
To fill the Empire State Building full of 1's
Go to school is what you tell us
But nigga's in school is scared of the good fellas
We got the yayo, you can just say no
But nobody makes a fuckin' move until I say so
That's how it is and that's how it's gonna be
Kids, when you grow up who the fuck you wanna be？
Like me, yo' black superhero
Got enough zeros to hire Bob Shapiro
Yo' honor I'm have to get rid of you
Because it ain't no trivia about my flat in West Bolivia
I blew the jury a kiss, they rather dismiss
Them swim with the big fish, you fuckin' guppies
Gangsta's make the world go 'round
Not just saggin', wavin' my flag and never will I ease up
Nigga, so stop askin', see, I was taught as a tiny loc on the
set
It's all about the pussy, your money, fuck the rest
Nigga, this tech is quicker to collect when I'm seekin' all the
jewelry
The money so miss me with that preachin', teaching
Fuck all that bullshit, I want to slang yeah, like Noriaga
Sit back watch my paper collect like the I.R.S.
As I kick it with 50 bitches all on my dick just like the
president
And like the police I want a gang of killers all on my side
That's down to lie more crooked that St. Ides rip ride on my
behalf
As I call shots as if I was Saddam Hussein
Jackin' mothafuckas for Dana Danes, hated by many but I don't
care
Because I rather be feared than loved with a pocket full of dubs
'Cause Gangsta gangsta's make the world go 'round
If you want a piece then you best to be down so quit chastising
me
Analyzing me like the escorts look over your shoulder nigga
It's plain to see, crooked ass cowards
Gangstas make the world go 'round
360 degrees like my D's the world be spinning
Nigga's been sinning since the beginning
History's a trip so I peep when I'm reading
Nigga's probably grew weed in the garden of Eden
Before big ballin', sex cars and loot
It's like bitches been scandalous biting forbidden fruit
But gangsta's don't deal with that shit, on the Westside
And since they regulating hoes I roll with the best side
So check it as my lifetime is ticking
Coming up strong, licking and flipping chickens
Need cheese in amounts of G's
I gave up sports to slang key's but blamed it on my knees
Make sure I got what I need to make your order
Everything to baggies triple beams to jugs for my water
Like a snitch life's a bitch a world full of drama
Drug paraphernalia being found by my momma
Trauma brings the sad song, your mamma seems to search
Your way to killa king nigga
So now I stand with heat in my hand for my whole life span
'Cause evil lurks the land
Plus I got a packet with this gang-bang jacket
Gotta hold it keep it loaded devoted since quoted
Fo sho One-0 got the ups on these prankstas
While the world keep twisting as a Westside
Gangsta for life, nigga
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
Gangstas make the world go 'round
11.Get Up On That Funk
作詞：Ball Roger, Calhoun William L, Duncan Malcolm, Ferrone
Stephen, Gorrie Alan Edward, Mcintyre Owen Onnie, Stuart James
Hamish
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
I got the funk inside me, yes it guides me
The light in my eyes, is shinin' brightly
Just give me some deep bass, a snare and a kick drum
Turn it up loud and listen to the rhythm run
Whenever I'm feelin' bad, angry or upset
I grab a cassette, and pop it in the tape deck
Album or eight track, as long as it ain't wack
Funk is addictive, but not like crack black
I'm hip to the old shit, the shit that still hit
The Louisiana chicken and homemade biscuits
Is makin' my feet move, it sure does feel good
My head is bouncin', cruisin' through my neighborhood
But this ain't pop though, R＆B or disco
Reggae or calypso, that's playin' in my radio
It's that funk yes, won't settle for less
Sheeit, I must be blessed, now check it out
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Check it out, now turn up your radio, EQ the stereo
I'm glad that y'all could make it to rock with the Maad Circle
And this is a preview, somethin to move to
Listen to groove to, I hope I don't lose you
Now I am the miracle, some say I'm spiritual
But I'm from the ghetto what？ I live off Imperial
Dip dab smacked in the heart of South Central
I might make it out 'cause I got potential
(Why？)
I ain't livin by protocol, cross me you're sure to fall
Another sucker, sippin' on some Eight ball
Left by the wayside, run but you can't hide
(Yeah)
Call it foolish, but I got the funky ride
Now hear what I'm sayin', you might think I'm playin'
(Yup)
Been rappin' so long, some say I need a vacation
Emcees wanna be me, some girls wanna skeeze me
But I play the back, 'cause I'm scared of AIDS
To the next paragraph I must move on
You might know my face 'cause I made a funky song
(Why)
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Coo, Coolio, show 'em what's on the mic
I love the funk and the funk loves me so
I'm stuck to the funk and I won't let go
Ain't no mountain high or valley ever deep enough
To keep me away from the rhythm of the funky stuff
I know who I am and Sam I ain't
I'll never fake the funk, I won't 'cause I can't
Crazy Toones on the fader, kinda like Funk Vader
On tape like great, dominate the record player
So Dub, won't you step to the front
(Whattup？)
And give the real meanin' of the word funk
What's my meanin' of the word funk？
Well, let me give a demonstration
Minority Alliance of Anti Discrimination
In other words, an organization of my homeboys
Stealin' from the rich and famous
And givin' back to the poor folks in the slums, yo
'Cause neither one of us forgot where we came from
'Cause when you sellout, you're out, and we don't want ya back
Nigga playin' both sides, I gotta peel his cap
'Cause one thing the Circle ain't down with and that's
All these bourgeoisie negroes, better known as cowards
Huh, sick of society, approval they try so hard
With your brand new cars
Try to fit in with the upper class, but the upper class
Was a mask, and they laughin' at yo' ass
That's why I'm down with the Maad Circle
But still keepin' it Low Pro, workin' for the po' folks
So everybody watch your back
I'm like the spook who sat by the door with a gat yo
(I know you can funk these words to the letter
Get up on the funk and maybe you'll feel better, yo)
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
Get on up on that funk and maybe you'll feel better
12.The Streets
WC f／Nate Dogg
Yeah
Turn the music up a little bit (Dah, dah, dah)
Uh, yeah, a little bit louder (Dah, dah, dah)
Right there (Dah, dah, dah)
In the name of the streets
Click click booyah
Dub kick the frame in (Uh-huh)
Nigga let the games begin
As I standin', toss the tall can on the canvas
Out to let 'em, the scandolous, taken penitentiary chances
Sick wit' it, off the rick wit' it (Sick)
Blue Beenie did it, freshly equitted
Grind ground meat, the big body (Uh-huh)
And the big body with lyrics and 'drolics, hotter than a Mahobie
Sellin', global bellin', career bellin'
Escalade, three braid beard wearin'
Fuck him
I thugged for free and thugged to eat
Niggas call me Holocare 'cause I love the cheese
Gangstas, hustlas, pimps if you follow me (Uh-huh)
Let me see you put those hands up like a robbery (Sup？)
I solomely swear to stay down and slang this beat
I spit in the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gone stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly)
I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust)
Throw my hood up high (Throw my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gone rich ride (I'm gonna rich ride)
I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball)
Hold my hood up high (Hold my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
This is for them G near us
Dub west and my east near us
Both sides scream near us
This is for dem DJs, coast to coast smokin' and spinnin' on dem
turntables
The bomp and boogiein' (Uh-huh)
Smash us, best strap us for cashin'
Dumpin' blunt ashes, side of the mess classin'
This is for dem riders, tryin' to pull dem wims
Ghetto ass niggas on dem big shiney rims (Uh-huh)
Clashin', your back atcha, bringin' the mass
Droppin' on your drastic, another hood classic
Dropped The Ghetto Heisman, seein' more cabbage
A street nigga livin' on C.E.O. statis (Uh-huh)
Unlocked the rap, Def Jam cock ya back
Recess is over, I want my spot back
Who's the next sucka ta see the blow comin' at 'em
In a pink coat and Stacey Adams, lookin' at 'em
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gone stay fly (I'm gonna stay fly)
I'm gonna bust (I'm gonna bust)
Throw my hood up high (Throw my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I'm gonna roll (I'm gonna roll)
I'm gone rich ride (I'm gonna rich ride)
I'm gonna ball (I'm gonna ball)
Hold my hood up high (Hold my hood up high)
In the name of the streets
I told a woman I don't love her but she wants to go
I told another that I want her but she wants to hoe
I ain't a hater, I'm a player so I fucked 'em both
In the name of the streets
Dah, dah, dah (Yeah)
Dah, dah, dah (Dub C)
Dah, dah, dah (The Ghetto Heisman)
In the name of the streets
Dah, dah, dah (Swingin' through a hood near you)
Dah, dah, dah
Dah, dah, dah
In the name of the streets
13.Flirt
WC featuring Case
We been through SL Coupe, wrist froze like igloo
Big Lou, Tony get your sauce swirled
Come twisting, Nina whistling that you with your home girls
Big bankers, big drinker, I see you sneaking
A peak so I know you live these gangsters
Freaky thoughts got me cussing at you
Visualizing me in side ya, baby, can we holla？
Look at here let's skip the fake conversation and all the
waiting
My name is Dub, what's crackalatin？
Certified rider, all nighter, dipping in the Impala
Trying to get you with this anaconda
Be your friendly neighborhood, neighbor with paper
Chrome and wood on the Chevy, baby
Bust rubbers go deep under covers
A freaky mother fucka' we should get to know each other
Come take a ride with me, baby
Me and my homey 'bout to blow, flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes, flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' duo, flirt
Ain't no denying, I'm straight buying you in that tight skirt
'Cause baby you got my flirt, shutting all rookies down
Stub down Dub Cezzy a.k.a. Pussy Hound
Who was snitching, pun any technician
Trying to make your head off from multiple positions
Off a yatch and moet I fiend for sex, menage a trois
And getting freaky of that ass 'cause I insert it
Squirt it wit you on top jerking it
Playing mystical like, 'Show me what you working with？'
Running up in it playing dead duck let me put the plug in it
Show you how a thug hit it, exchange lines, blazing drinks
St. Ides trying to do the damn thing wit you
And your girl at the same time, no commitments
To make the butt riches, a machine, loving in ma vocabulary,
flirt
Come take a ride with me, baby
Me and my homey 'bout to blow, flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes, flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' duo, flirt
I got a problem, and it's serious as cancer
No matter what you call it, baby, I'm a fuckaholic
Trying to get you on the lizo to blow
And whistle my melody, part them legs open like the Red Sea
Make you smack, hit it from the back
While I'm creeping in the hood blowing on dubs sac
As long as your kit-kat gets wet and percolate
No matter the color or size, I can't hate
I like the skinny ones, thick one's the whole entry
I even think I'm country for fat monkeys like Beyonce
Wet lips and as ghetto as vivica
Nasty, long tongue known for licking ya
I might trick a little just to keep the litter
But tripping as G gon' 'cause we goin' sip
I'm mashing to smashing, there's too many asses
I can't role past them, I'm getting at them
Come take a ride with me, baby
Me and my homey 'bout to blow, flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes, flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' duo, flirt
Come take a ride with me, baby
Me and my homey 'bout to blow, flirt
I saw you at the light looking bright
Banging from your head to your toes, flirt
Can't tell the future, I don't know what tomorrow holds
But we can smoke a little chronic, drink a little
And if it's good, drink a lil' duo, flirt
Uh, Dub-Cee, Case
New millenium shit
14.When The Guns Come Out
WC, E-40 ＆ Christ Bearer Of Northstar
When them guns goes off, we be ready for war
When them guns goes off, bitches hit the floor
When them guns goes off, and them sirens roar
Better get that money, and be out the door
Racket, racket, comin' out of the back end
Dead at you, he throwin' the hot lead at you
Swang affiliate, X.O. sip, a gold getter
With the rest to gather, my cold killer
It's, 'Me Against the World' like 2Pac
And like Biggie, I'm 'Ready to Die' for what you got
Got a crew with killas behind me, I'm grimey
I'm one of the big body, blowin' cushions where you can find me
For figures, we bust triggers, who could fuck with us？
Dub, E-40, Christ Bearer, plus RZA
Stick you with the Blade, we gots to get paid
And for the moolah, we intertwine like French braids
And I can't fight the feeling like one way
When it comes down to this gangsta shit and gun play
For the loot, we compute it, quick to shoot it
So hit the switch, punk blew it, and bang the music
I don't care what it takes, we gon' make it
They say the chains too strong for us to break it
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall)
(After all, all, all, all, all)
When them guns go off, bitches hit the floor
Or then forty four slugs gonna hit you, ho
I don't care what it takes, I pull out a gear
Fuck the snakes, and Kurtis Blow with The Breaks off
Artie Murphy and the Petty Coat Junction
Get two thirty off the head with cold dumplings
Niggaz jump when the AK bark
Crystal grip pump, make the gun niggaz spark
You dig？ Niggaz ready for war
Been carryin' the world for so long, it ain't heavy no more
And even when the sirens roar
I taught the violence gore to start firing more
And when we run out of bullets, and you still want static？
I grab the three eighty and pull out the automatic
We better get the money, for shootin' Mossbergs and Beretta's
Niggaz ain't shit funny, when it comes to a brawl
Suckin' Northstar, trippin' in, guns go off, y'all know y'all
strippin'
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall)
(After all, all, all, all, all)
Look out peon, we might of lost the battle, but we won the war
I grab a bullet, travel, bodies hit the floor
Can't be scared of your shadow, you gotta have heart
Killas on my soil, will turn off the lights and park
Get out the car, unlock, fill out the chopper and let it chop
Walk off like nothing happened, give a fuck bout a cop
Touch you with the Blade, take off your toupee
Put my dirt in your glocks, sometimes I do my dark in the day
My momma didn't raise no sick, she raised a beast
And I can't rest 'til my enemies rest in peace
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
Run up on me, I'ma knock the hell outta y'all
My back against the ball, strappin' and jackin', I'm puttin'
hands on 'em
One hitter, quitter, bob and weavin', karate stance on 'em
Dance on 'em, ran on 'em, and land on 'em
Put my brand on 'em, stand on 'em, because I can on 'em
When them guns goes off, we be ready for war
When them guns goes off, bitches hit the floor
When them guns goes off, and them sirens roar
Better get that money, and be out the door
I don't care what it takes, we gon' make it
They say the chains too strong for us to break it
Willing to do what it takes for us to make it
And we can overcome anything we faced with
(We are soldiers after all, down by honor we won't fall)
(After all, all, all, all, all)
| 
