Tonart: C# minor
Verse 1
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My hooptie rollin',
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tailpipe draggin'
Heat don't work an' my
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Six- nine Buick, deuce keeps rollin'
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One hubcap 'cause three got stolen
chrome keeps scrapin'
Mis- matched tires,
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and my white walls flakin'
Hit mickey- d's, Maharaji starts to bug
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He ate a quarter- pounder,
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threw the pickles on my rug
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Runnin', movin' tabs expired
Girlies tryin' to dis 'n
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say my car looks tired
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Hit my brakes, out slid skittles
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Tinted back window with
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a bubble in the middle
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Who's car is it? Posse won't say
We all play it off when you
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tires smoke up the block
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Gotta roll this bucket,
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'cause my Benz is in the shop
Verse 2
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My
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hooptie - my
hooptie
Verse 3
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Four door nightmare, trunk locks' stuck Big
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dice on the mirror, grill like a truck
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accelerator's stickin'
Somethin' on my left front
wheel keeps clickin'
Picked up the girlies,
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now we're eight deep
Verse 4
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Made a left turn as I watched in fright
out my headlight
She was standin', in the road,
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so I smashed her toes
down she goes
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Law ain't lyin', long hairs flyin'
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We flipped the skeez off,
dumb girl starts cryin'
Baby called the cops,
now I'm gettin' nervous
The cops see a beeper and the
suckers might serve us
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Hit a side street and what did we find?
droppin' me a flip off sign
Put the deuce in reverse,
and started to curse
Another sucker on the south
side about to get hurt
Homey got scared, so I got on
Yeah my group got paid,
but my groups still strong
Posse moved north, headin for the CD
Ridin' real fast so the cops
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Mis- matched tires got my boys uptight
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Two Vogues on the left,
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Uniroyal on the right
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Hooptie bouncin', runnin' on leaded
This is what I sport when you
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I pot- hole crusher, red light rusher
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Musher of a brother 'cause I'm
Verse 5
Verse 6
It's a three- ton monster,
econo- box stomper
Snatch your girly,
if you don't I'll romp 'er
Dinosaur rush, lookin' like Shaft
Some get bold, but some get smashed
Cops say the car smokes,
but I won't listen
It's a six- nine deuce,
so the hell with emissions
Rollin' in Tacoma,
I could get burned
(Sound of automatic gunfire) Betta
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make a you- turn
Spotted this freak
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with immense posterior
through the Hilltop area
Brother start lettin' off,
kickin' that racket
Thinkin' I'm a rock star,
slingin' them packets
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I ain't wit' dat, so I smooth eject
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Hit I- 5 with the dope cassette
Playin' that tough crew
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hardcore dope
The tape deck broke
Damn what's next,
brothers in Goretex
Tryin' to find a spot where
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we could hunt for sex
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Found a little club called the N- see- O
Military, competition. You know.
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I ain't really fazed,
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'cause I pop much game
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'cause I got much fame
my name is Mixalot"
"Mixalot got a Benz boy,
quit smokin' that rock"
Ooooh, I got dissed. But
it ain't no thing
Runnin' that game with the
home made slang
Baby got ished, Bremelo gip.
Keep laughin' at the car and
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you might get clipped
Verse 7
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By a
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Verse 8
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Runnin' outta gas, stuck in traffic
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Far left lane, throwin' up much static
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Input, output, carbeurator fulla soot
"Whatcha want me to do Mix?"
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Sputter, sputter rollin' over gutters
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Cars dip low with hard core brothers
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Tank on E, pulled into Arco
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C
Cops on tip for Columbian cargo
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We fit a stereotype, that's what he said
Big long car, four big black heads
Cops keep jockin',
grabbin' like 'gators
'Bout stereotypes,
I'm lookin' nuthin' like Noriega
Cop took my wallet, looked at my license
His partner said "Damn,
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they all look like Tyson"
Yes, I'm legit, so they gotta let me go
This bucket ain't rollin' in snow
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It's
Verse 9
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Outro 1
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my hooptie
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