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yukmouth - nothin 2 a bo$ lyrics
yukmouth – nothin 2 a bo$$
haha… i can’t believe you n-gg-s. you can’t be serious. you really thought since ‘pac died the west coast fell the f-ck off, huh? you thought since dre ain’t made a alb-m, we flopped? f-ck that sh-t n-gg-! rap-a-lot for life n-gg-! yukmouth n-gg-! west coast don n-gg-! what’s wit it punk?! it’s nuthin to a boss n-gg-! we been ridin on dubb’s that spin n-gg-! we been poppin bottles, n-gg-, since ‘pac was alive n-gg-. the west coast is back you f-ggot -ss f-cks!
i’m from the west coast and never-ever crip-walk. i’m like the bird man, platinum grill, big cross an i’m tryin to sell a few mill like kris kross. i’m ultra c-cky, tell a chicken get lost. diss the boss an get ya lips ripped off. i let clips off, ya whole click soft. what you know about a hundred on a wrist watch. twenty on ya chicks watch, loungin gucci flip flops, and i bang in the club like rick rock. yuk show you how to rock that real thug hip-hop. they ride lo-lo’s, yukmouth flip drops off the floor every year is a whip hop. menage-a-trios all year if ya chick jock. with ten karats in my ear like a big shot. godzilla get the scrilla like chris rock, an i’ma bring the west back when my sh-t drop.
to roll around on 24’s. wit plenty millions in a vouge. everything a n-gg- want. it’s nothin 2 a boss! so much ice a n-gg- froze custom rides wit 3-1-0’s. until i die it’s all west coast, it’s nothin big to a boss!
yeah… if you gon’ do it, do it right. i’m in the blue and white. rally striped vipe leavin peanuts wit a crew of dyk-s. tuesday night i got my game together. i’m dangerous fella, my rims spin like plane propellers. an i’m down wit prince james forever. rap-a-lot fo’ lia.
yukmouth, scarface an tela, and ya’ll know yuk is off the meter. for all you non-believers, i spark the heater. i’m what you call a block leader. why you hatin? i roll through ya radio station wit gary payton. in a franchise lac outside on cherry dayton’s. an rock the new blue burberry, make every nation feel the thug vibration, uh. my cars talk back like michael knight. i got a hundred on a roy jones and tyson fight. you wanna roll wit baller, well tonight’s ya night. i rock ice cause the price is right. step it up hater. yeah
chorus
every day i’m poppin a bottle, and poppin a tag. fourty g’s in a gucci bag, i’m coppin a jag. two-hundred g’s in a louie bag, i’m coppin a pad, wit the dragon shaped tool in the bag. what you know about that?! what you know about chronic an hypnotic, coppin lamborghini’s from 3-1-0 an simbalic. drop stretch hummers, twenty-four inch rims on it.? skin interior wit the suede trim on it, wait!
i came in the game wit mobsta tales. i hit mr. chow’s for meals, crack lobster tails. at the mall wit a model who only buys chanelle. you wish i fell, but i prevail, yukmouth is ill. i rock the ‘wheels of fortune’ like pat sajack. in a black maybach, i’m tryin to bring the bay back
in a a’s throw back and a a’s hat. yuk a beast, and bleach couldn’t fade that! what?!
chorus
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