| Yo, now first of all I’m a kid about money
|
| Talkin hot bid’ness and my paper work, runnin
|
| Doc and Hot Nick is like Good Will, Huntin
|
| Put them shotguns up in the air and start, pumpin
|
| Real niggas in the hood don’t start, nuttin
|
| When the heat breaks they proceed to start, dumpin
|
| You eyeballin me like you movin somethin
|
| Yo' bitch fuckin you with me in the Walkman
|
| Slow down boy, you’re not a real, killer
|
| Three-wheel motion from me shootin the wheel up
|
| Out the jungle, Doc straight go-rilla (ahh ahh ahh ahh)
|
| Bananas, antennas can’t pick up (doo doo doo doo)
|
| My crew is Triple P, watch us do it
|
| Brook-nam, Shaolin, the T-Dot, Newark
|
| All my shorties skippin school watch truant
|
| Hit the college dorm, make freaks out the students
|
| Yeah, now do you like the way it feel baby? |
| (uh-huh)
|
| Do you like the way the Bricks move baby? |
| (uh-huh)
|
| Roll the L, let’s inhale baby (uh-huh)
|
| Startin it up befo' twelve baby (uh-huh, uh-huh)
|
| To my niggas that say buck hoes (uh-huh)
|
| Only real dog is they red nose (uh-huh)
|
| If it ain’t green can’t accept those (uh-huh)
|
| That can’t roll with niggas that’s petrol (uh-huh)
|
| Niggas, abandon ship when I’m geared for landing
|
| Your own tec-ll see my grill and start, jamming
|
| Throw your hands up in the air, keep 'em standin
|
| Fuck if you in here on V.I.P., laminates (fuck you)
|
| You’ll get touched too with the, cannon
|
| Around the handle, a fuck you ban-danna
|
| Dawg I was grown with balls and bad, manners
|
| That’s why me and your broad is on, camera
|
| I’m sick from a childhood head, blow
|
| When systems was pumpin before I let, go
|
| The head honcho fall back and pump, fo'
|
| Figure-four flows 'til they scream, UNCLE!
|
| Now wake your punk-ass up if you asleep
|
| Doc and Brick City bout fo'-thousand deep
|
| Fourteen years old, got TV’s in the, seat
|
| Watchin pornos of Janet Jack-me
|
| — whispered |