a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

ras kass - the whoop lyrics

[hook (shortened)-busta rhymes]
all my n-ggas all my b-tches
get high, get drunk get wild blunt fool
you know my style, get crunk
b-tches bounce n-ggas bounce
and let me give you that funk sh-t blunt sh-t

[verse 1-ras k-ss]
i spit that, super ugly, take over ether
talk from my urethra and p-ss out the speaker
beef c-cking the heater, meet greet and defeat ya
the glitch in the matrix busting’ nuts on (zeta?)
add insult to injury when i see ya
like ike buying his ex-wife tina
white wife-beaters, (why envida?), loui vitton stripes on my kobe to adidas
red wine (?) and break your motherf-cking fema
team-up, the future, golden state, nwa 2k trait, hold-up wait
we bubble two if we f-cking wit you, blow that eight
just fifty get with me b-tch hit me like bou
just stick me, sl!ck risky but true
keep my money on my mind (mind)
my mind on my grind
my grind on my nine i put that on my mama
it gotta, rock in the ring (bigger than what)
bigger than wwe smackdown
so f-ck carrot’s chain got rabbits
same bad habbits
aim to live lavish so back down

[hook-busta rhymes]
all my n-ggas all my b-tches
get high, get drunk get wild blunt fool
you know my style, get crunk
b-tches bounce n-ggas bounce
and let me give you that funk sh-t blunt sh-t
while a n-gga bang outcha trunk

[bridge 1-dina rae]
street-slang ought to talk a lotta
tell police sirens and coppers
club pack cause the beat is hotter
if you go real deep than imma

[verse 2-ras k-ss]
bid your whole, over style
so what you know about
p-ss the courvoisier, busta show me how
canary-yellow diamond, the goldyn chyld
b-tch play like a jock strap on hard d-cks and hold me down
pound-for-pound, i spit rounds the sickest (gold pound)
incase fours for you all (???)
‘cause when i draw, huh, ain’t to paint the town red
i’m too s-xy to be dead
‘bout to sell a couple million units
host mtv, renegotiate for 1.3
put the babies through college
then expose how many of you so-called rappers is garbage
and that’s logic, doc dre got us
grow some more than movies about spiders, jedis, and hobbits
hip-hop’s hottest
can’t front, i’m not as modest
but promise, to spread over these bread like bubonics (holla)

[hook]

[bridge 2-dina rae]
nothing but the heat and put it (rk: hop in ya)
strictly for the street and put it

[interlude-ras k-ss]
out the cut
doc dre
ras k-ss
bus-a-buss
(br: all my b-tches)
dr. dre-“whoopty whoop, n-gga what”

[verse 3-ras k-ss]
i walk on mouse traps just for the cheese
can’t f-ck with a chick ‘less you giving her three bees
back-rubs, bl-w j-bs, and breakfast in bed
but rather bill gates and get breaded instead
fly n-gga, (???), dope as me
my sh-t don’t stank, b-tch please, i push popery
you know how it supposed to be, in your city high
rubbing the thighs and call that ortiz

[bridge 1]

[hook (2x)]

- ras kass lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS