Dippin' (Remix)
Well it's a hot hot Sunday jump up around a quarter to ten
Had to run and get this blunt that I left in my Benz
I lit the shit and caught a early mornin buzz
And called my nigga E 'What up loc?,' 'What up cuz?'
I'm thinkin bout pullin out the trey for performance
And maybe hit a few corners
I let the batteries charge while the kids stood waitin
For me to hit the switch and floss the Daytons
I tap my shit, yo, my shit was hot
So I drove her straight down to the wash spot
They shine my shit up real glossy
Suckers starin but my shit jumps like Kriss Kross G
So fuck what ya heard cause my trey does flips
The superclean three with the lifts
I guess I got my whole day planned and I'm trippin
Quick to hit the switch so let's go dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
Now I'm rollin cocked up, flossin down the street
I took Imperial to the beach
But before I arose on the scene
I saw the individuals rollin like a team
Drove a little bit futher saw mafia for life
Without a doubt everything was tight
But they gotta watch out for the King
Cause I can make my sixty-three sing
No pigs round, no I ain't no sucka
I'm doin sixty just hangin this muthafucka
More Bound To The Ounce is what counts so I show it
Even if it means I gotta total it
Swervin from lane to lane
A Cadillac just ain't the same
If you don't know what I mean and ya sittin
Come on, get in, let's go dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
I felt like Cube cause today was a good day
For me to act the fool in my trey
I'm not worried bout a sucka tryin to stick and rob
I just buck em down with my thirty-odd
Creeped up to the beach, packed to capacity
Hoes walkin by 'Hi Your Majesty'
I said I'm not Young MC but what's the flava
I played it like Troop cause I'm not?? souped??
I park my shit on three wheels cause I'm ill
Compton's on the set with the real deal
This one's for the riders all around the world
Dippin through the hood wit your girl
Bumps in the back, sunroof top
Niggas lookin crazy so I'm reachin for the gloc
Every hood knows where the blood and are crippin
Ain't nothin like a Sunday out just dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
Had to run and get this blunt that I left in my Benz
I lit the shit and caught a early mornin buzz
And called my nigga E 'What up loc?,' 'What up cuz?'
I'm thinkin bout pullin out the trey for performance
And maybe hit a few corners
I let the batteries charge while the kids stood waitin
For me to hit the switch and floss the Daytons
I tap my shit, yo, my shit was hot
So I drove her straight down to the wash spot
They shine my shit up real glossy
Suckers starin but my shit jumps like Kriss Kross G
So fuck what ya heard cause my trey does flips
The superclean three with the lifts
I guess I got my whole day planned and I'm trippin
Quick to hit the switch so let's go dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
Now I'm rollin cocked up, flossin down the street
I took Imperial to the beach
But before I arose on the scene
I saw the individuals rollin like a team
Drove a little bit futher saw mafia for life
Without a doubt everything was tight
But they gotta watch out for the King
Cause I can make my sixty-three sing
No pigs round, no I ain't no sucka
I'm doin sixty just hangin this muthafucka
More Bound To The Ounce is what counts so I show it
Even if it means I gotta total it
Swervin from lane to lane
A Cadillac just ain't the same
If you don't know what I mean and ya sittin
Come on, get in, let's go dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
I felt like Cube cause today was a good day
For me to act the fool in my trey
I'm not worried bout a sucka tryin to stick and rob
I just buck em down with my thirty-odd
Creeped up to the beach, packed to capacity
Hoes walkin by 'Hi Your Majesty'
I said I'm not Young MC but what's the flava
I played it like Troop cause I'm not?? souped??
I park my shit on three wheels cause I'm ill
Compton's on the set with the real deal
This one's for the riders all around the world
Dippin through the hood wit your girl
Bumps in the back, sunroof top
Niggas lookin crazy so I'm reachin for the gloc
Every hood knows where the blood and are crippin
Ain't nothin like a Sunday out just dippin
Let's go dippin, dippin through the streets
Credits
Writer(s): Roger Mcbride, James Patrick Broadway
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.