Rollin' Lyrics

Nineteen ninety mother fuckin' six

That's that shit though

Get the motherfuckin' squad packed

We got to pull these shoes out like carpet, word is bond

Test the crew with the guns and let's get this shit on

Why, must I be like that? Why, must I pack the gat?

On my left, niggaz be rollin' with the ruckus

Ready to get deep bust rounds upon some suckaz

Heard PPP and LOD is a bunch of crazy motherfuckers

Journey to the land is on

The winner of the spittin' bomb marathon

The fuck you up lierathon, whatever you choose

Prepare to lose that title

Turnin' vital situations suicidal, my idols, is my uncles

Who started smokin' weed outta Bibles

Gave me a puff when I bust my first rifle

Menstruation cycles, I give bitches

Bring your craziest nigga, I'll give stitches

Whateva, go crew for crew, blow for blow

Bang your headpiece

And sniff the snow off your hoe

I keep it rollin', rollin'

Rollin', rollin'

I keep it rollin', rollin'

Rollin', rollin'

Ask yourself man

How ugly do you have to be to be a hardcore M. C.?

Niggaz be fooled by my plaques and my light skin complexture

My whole texture is bombin', destroyin' da schools of the wack

From the 'Land of the Lost', you get tossed

Listen to my veloc, my crew's comin' off

Yeah, more sneaky than casino switches

Diggin' ditches for all Moschino bitches

Clockin' decimal figures, I'm gettin' out diggers

Now my choice of truck is a Land

'Cause a Land cruise much bigger

It pack two to three more niggaz

Damn I hate a golddigger

Yeah, gimme that microphone

I make opponents shit bricks like Tyson's home

I keep the jacked cellular phone blown in three zones

Love seafood and keep my nine millimis chromeRedman - Rollin' - http://motolyrics.com/redman/rollin-lyrics.html

So it can shine up your dome

When I proceed to give you what you need

And clear spots like sea breeze

Wreckin' your ass Armageddon style

Twenty four seven while

My crew chin check your profile

Rollin', rollin''

Rollin', rollin''

Niggaz be rollin'

Niggaz be rollin'

Rollin', rollin''

Rollin', rollin'

I'm the master of disaster, super rhyme maker

Grimy by nature, database maker

Play 'em out like Sega Saturn

Blow your blocks in patterns for about nine acres

Testes, crew wearin' bulletproof and double Ss

Karl Kani down, camouflage can't hide the sounds

Of a fo' pound

Givin you six flags, bustin' merry go rounds

But my crew stay ill with that unreal appeal

I be the raw water, my cheek bones outta have gills

Below like the opera

Smooth on the trigger for all you block cockers

I be the key to criminology

Blast and rotate enemies at three buck sixty

Pick me, as your senator

Take the dove from your battlefield son, fuck, Pat Benatar

Run, head for the hills, back in the day, these niggaz

Rolled up on me with the trunk filled with Bomber Brooklyns

Sheeps and Quartervilles, take that shit, money snap the grill

Body caught chills as he ate this nine mil

Mine kills two but my nine was sign sealed

And ready to deliver but money had me too close

To reach for toast, soon as that nigga blink I broke ghost

Dash back to South Orange Ave with dollar bill to smoke dope

I keep 'em rollin'

This is D. J., say what? On this motherfucker

Sayin', "The dick is long, but my time is short"

Before I go, just remember

If your box ain't on FDS radio, you're fuckin' up