• Vagalume
  • A-Z
  • Estilos
  • Top 100
  • Playlists
  • Rádio
  • Hot Spots
  • Notícias
  • Play

    Yeah yeah
    Fuck all these niggaz
    You know what I'm talkin' about Wino
    Yeah yeah yeah
    Two minutes and twenty one seconds of funk
    and I ain't no punk
    That's right that's right

    A tisket a tasket
    that's all you ask it
    Snap your cd and drop the pieces in your casket
    Like little Jack Horna' I'm still bendin' cornas'
    buckin' shots on your block I'm sippin' on Corona's
    Uh your McDonald had a farm wit' a six-fo on suicide
    sittin' in the barn wit' no alarm
    Straight up collected it, cool and calm
    crowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charm
    Who's the rawest?
    My shit is flawless
    Had to be passin' out bruises,
    lacerations and broken jawses
    Emcees wanna floss you better understand who's the boss
    before I do a Michael Jackson and "Cut your shit off!"
    Part of the penitentary still, penetratin' your grill
    I keep on keepin' it right, while you keep on keepin' it real
    I'll bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waist
    Coolio's on the case, get yo hoe out my face, fool
    Lodi Dodi, I don't know karate, but I know a razor
    and none of y'all can't fade me
    I know you wanna try to play me
    and busta's wanna playa hate me
    I'm one of the dopest niggaz out I
    guess that's why they hate me
    Cause I slang hits like niggaz slang cavi
    I remain like khakis, I guess that's why they mad at me
    On a record you might outgat me
    but you can't outrap me
    my shit is fatta'
    and yo shit need a little bit mo batta'
    Freestyle in unrestricted manner or method
    Free funk text readily selected, so check it
    Uh, ?dip diver?, socializer, I've been rockin'
    these motherfuckin' microphones since nineteen seventy-niner,
    and by the time that this little nappy head nigga retire
    I'ma be at the ripe ol' age of forty-eight or forty-niner
    My shit is wise, CPT M.C. for hire
    my name ain't Rick James but I'll burn your ass with a fire
    So, what's your desire baby love?
    Is it hands wrapped around mics
    or fingers wrapped around triggas?
    Eitha' way it go I'm dumpin' and I'm dippin'
    still tennis shoe pimpin', 40 Thevz in position
    Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, now nigga I'm a giant
    and yo ass is like Jack,
    but yo magic beans is wack
    Skills is what you lack
    I'm like a Benz, you ain't even like Cadillac
    you mo like a Regal
    I'ma pit bull, and you's a Beagle
    I'm set to strangle hangin' emcee's at all angles
    as their legs start to dangle,
    dance around everybody like Mr. Bo Jangles
    Los Angeles, Compton, Long Beach, and Carson Hawthorne
    livin with the Watts
    I'm sendin' out shout outs
    I used to drink Ol' Gold
    now I just stroll
    straight to the ?exit? section of my neighborhood liquor store
    Huh, and you know what make me laugh, bitch?
    Even your mama want my autograph, autograph, autograph,
    autograph, autograph

    Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor, envie uma correção »

    user 300 caracteres restantes. Enviar

    Todas as letras de Coolio

    Mais notícias »
    Hot Spot
    Top Músicas do Vagalume
    Top 100 »

    As informações deste site são postadas integralmente pelos usuários. É importante dizer que é possível que os dados estejam desatualizados ou incorretos, sendo assim, o Vagalume exime-se de qualquer responsabilidade sobre as informações publicadas.Caso haja interesse em remover ou alterar alguma informação, entre em contato conosco.

    É permitida somente a visualização no site das letras de músicas encontradas aqui, vedada sua reprodução através de quaisquer outros meios (Lei 9610/98).Todas as letras de músicas são propriedade dos seus respectivos autores e divulgadas somente para fins educacionais.All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics are provided for educational purposes only.