featuring Ice Cube, MC Eiht, Jay Dee
"This afternoon we want to talk about"
"Now I want you brothers to dig where we coming from"
[WC]
Five yers ago when I was in high school
No bills to pay, I used to say to myself "Life is cool"
I had a roof over my head and a part-time job
Slanging at OB's birdstand
Washington High was the school I attended
Til '87 graduation came and I wasn't with it
Kicked out the house at the age of 18
No money for college, mmm, how should I handle things?
I tried to go the so-called right way
And went to a JC but I wasn't getting paid
I'm working at a chicken stand now with the chicken
With a spring at the top of my hat getting clowned
I gotta pay my rent but my job ain't cutting it
So now I'm drinking gin saying "Here's my alternative"
To either keep doing what I'm doing, don't trip
Or go and buy gats y'all and come up on a grip
So like anybody else I went and bought a gun
Pulling burgs at night and now I'm counting my funds
Three times a day and I drive a coup on danas
Cruising through the alley bumping on "Hi" to players
Yo, you can say what you want but I was taught on the streets
That if a brother didn't work, then he didn't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[Coolio]
Peep this, something kind if for weakness
Focus on the park and watch how I freak this
Subject for survival, got to stay alive
I gotta eat so I do or die
Not a full-time crook but I was born right
So if I want to eat, sometimes I got to jack
So jack I will and go get some presidents
A foot in the ground and the other on an oil slick
Money ain't everything but either is brokeness
Give me a knife cause I can't live off happiness
Once a brother said I can't work for the white kind
Standing on the corner in a soup line
Said he's too black, too strong, ain't done nothing yet
Waiting on the fifth for his government relief check
Humming and bumming, most hate to see him coming
And every first and 15th, these strongs on his life
But a hustle is a hustle and a meal is a meal
That's why I'm real and I ain't afraid to steal
Straight from the street, backed up by a funky beat
If you don't work, OG, then you don't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat" (Repeat 2x)
[Ice Cube]
Ayo, I want y'all to meet a nigga from the Lench Mob
He gaffled for his meals (McDonald's is my spot)
Ayo Jay Dee, kick some shit for the Maad Circle, G
[Jay Dee]
If you don't work, you don't eat, need I say more?
Cause I'm a kick my rhymes in abundant while you stay poor
Since I was 14 I raised myself
I built a roof over my head and then I went for self
I sold cooked-up rock, made my way through school
I'm not saying you should do it cause it ain't too cool
Kicking ???, playing to start your back
Talking about that bullshit prize, you slay me right?
And you other motherfuckers out here banging for change
Need to wise up and seek personal gain
Or maintain some type of pain
Cause they don't give away hot lunches out here in L.A.
Yo peace to the Dub and the Maad Circle
For giving me the chance to let the rhyme just flow
So you can (So you can either sell dope or get your ass a job)
Jay Dee (I'd rather roll with the Lench Mob)
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[MC Eiht]
Eiht is stepping from the city down under
And I'm robbing more punk fools blind like Stevie Wonder
Ain't no punching a clock, I ain't with it
For a quarter an hour I make the shit every minute
And please, don't even let me catch a brother slipping
He'll be short, shorter than short
With my hands around his troat
Fool, come off the chain and bracelet
I know it's wrong but face it
A brother like me won't win the lottery
Ain't no faking when it's time to bring home the bacon
Cause I was taught get what you're gonna get quick
And don't get gaffled in the mix
So I guess I'll keep stacking, breaking the law
Checking a fool, wrecking and breaking his jaw
Gyeah, that's life in the Compton streets
Homeboy you don't work, homeboy you don't eat
"You don't work, you can't eat"
[WC]
This record was put together by Jay Dee, Coolio, and the W
Eight, Chilly Chill, and DJ Crazy Toons
Sic brothers out to get paid cause
Nowadays you got to go for yourself or go broke
I'm living day by day cause you see the future ain't promised
So save that drama for your mama
And make sure you're out of my path when I'm on the creep tip
Or have your first name changed to R.I.P.
"You don't work, you can't eat" (Repeat 2x)
Snorin like a motherfucker, stretched on the couch
Slobbin on my pillow and I'm droolin at the mouth
And now I'm havin dreams cause I'm in a deep sleep
But I ain't Dream About no motherfucker named Jeannie
Shit was intense, it had me sweatin like crack
Sorta like a horror flick for every motherfucker who dissed the black
People was gettin done, we had em on the run
Killin em all, one by one
Cause niggaz in the hood was finally gettin together
No more set trippin, with cappin each other
Brother to brother, hand in hand
Thirty thousand motherfuckers deep, ready for action and
all you seen was niggaz and ?-kickers
Bailin on this mission, ?hesta? coalition
Checkin through the vicinity, for enemies
and if we find any they gon' get treated like Reginald Denny
Oooh, the shit was cooler than a motherfucker
Never thought the day'd come when I could wear the other color
without gettin hit up, sweated or shot on the scene
Sparked up, it had to be a dream
But anyway, back to the - story
that I'm, tossin - listen up when black folks are talkin
Niggaz was in the streets runnin wild
and tied to this car it was Officer Colonel Colin Powell
And bein that bitch-made's was the first to go
Pete Wilson was on the side stripped out his clothes
Tied to the back of a six-fo'
and it was draggin his ass up and down the Segundo
Uhh, now whassup nigga with the shit that you was poppin
You ain't bannin shit, motherfucker!
Then told Colonel Powell to turn his ass over, and from the back
they placed both of they hands down on his shoulder
Surrounded by a gang of niggaz he screamed loud
"I'm sorry for bombin Iraq!" but they still fucked him doggystyle
And that's when my dream started gettin good
My dick was rising and rising ready to break wood
Cause now we lookin for the residence
Thirty thousand gang members on our way to Washington
And the National Guard couldn't fuck with us
cause in my dream we had guns blowin up the helicopters
Bailed in the White House, deep
Caught you-know-who in his motherfuckin sleep
You comin back with us to South Central that's what we told him
before we stuffed him in the back of the lo-lo
Got to the hood, now it'ssssON!
Now it's time for him to pay the piper, for doin us wrong
Cause now the tables was turned and on the top we stood
Robbin motherfuckers for they manhood
And even the old folks was down, fuck em up, hang em high
is what they screamed out the crowd
And that's when I heard a gunshot
and his body fell back and his brains went SPLAT
Now here's where I finally woke up
Sittin in a puddle full of nut
Heard a loud siren then I ran to the front
Hopin ain't nobody I know; they got the fuckin yellow tape up
Damn, they laid my homey in the street
Another victim of gang violence, created by the beast
And to think just a minute ago
Yo I was dreamin this bullshit ceased, we killed the real devil
But I guess it was just my, imagination
that one day we can all live as one
Man fuck it, no matter how real it all seemed yo
The shit was only a wet dream..
.. fuck this is back on again
featuring Mack 10, Ice Cube
Intro: WC
Wessyde-fa-life-in-ya!!
("Throwin up the W" -- Ice Cube) 2X
Yeah, I'm with this, what we throwin up?
("Throwin up the W" -- Ice Cube)
All you busta ass niggaz out there
I got my motherfuckin homeboys in the house ("Throwin up the W")
My nigga Ice Cube ("Throwin up the W"), Mack 10
Back to set the record straight for all these busta ass niggaz
who trip, this how we do it nigga
Chorus: WC
Front back side to side
We be givin it up, till the day we die
Niggaz hit me up, I'ma have ta erupt
So motherfucker West Up!
(repeat 2X)
Verse One: WC
Nigga clear the lane, here I come, once again
With this, gangsta click, droppin this, gangsta shit
Strictly for the riders who ride us I gotta WestSider
rhymer for them niggaz that's sittin on them Dayton wires
Pump the bass, hit the switch
Cause Ice Cube, Mack 10, and Dub-C, back up in this b-i-itch
Straight hoodsta for life, ain't no lookin back
Ink in my flesh, WestSide tattered on my chest
Walkin with the shadow of death
Through the land of the skanless, South Central Los Angeles
Home of the Crips and the Bloods
Where even the strongest niggaz is drug through the mud
And visitors from outta town best to stay in Hollywood
You get that tourist ass ganked strollin through my hood
West coast till the casket drop
I be throwin it up, so motherfucker West Up!
Verse Two: Mack 10
It's gun ho Mack one-oh please you can't fuck wit deez
Ice Cubez and Dub-Ceez is my G'z
And hip-hop, top three niggaz the new bosses
Never slippin cause we flosses, packin Nina Rosses
Nigga, thought you knew how we do it
Ain't a Damn Thing Changed, always on them thangs
forever and a day, so back up, gimme room, don't neglect
Just respect and everything I can't check I wreck
Now you can cross out the bustas and snitches
Shit only killers hootchie bitches and hot hydraulic switches allowed
On the turf where the real hogs dwell
Sewed up the hood, the fattest bolas on the block for sale
Inglewood City, the throne I call home
Niggaz be so bright, you might need your locs on
to bail through, it's fin you're in with Mack 10
And I gotta confess up, nigga this West Up! for life
Chorus
Verse Three: Ice Cube
Now I got ta show you how the West coast rocks
No razor blades, in my mouth, just a glock
And I'm hittin you up, with that W-S
The sun, rises in the East, but it sets in the West
No gold teeth, you gets a wreath
So hand me the goodies, stockin mask, no hoodies
Christmas day, I'm in a tre
While some of you niggaz got the robe reindeer and a sleigh
We don't call it five-oh, we call it one time
It's my life my life my life my life, in the sunshine!
One nine weighs a ton
How the fuck you think that the West was won?
Now shit can be squashed over a forty ounce of backwash
No jokes, the land of locs and hundred spokes
In the East, we can be brothers
But when you come to L.A., watch your motherfuckin colors
West Up! nigga
Chorus
Verse Four: WC
Give it up, give it up
Like the nigga James Brown, me and my niggaz are puttin it down
So bustas be wary cause see we represent the city
Where niggaz caught slippin is left with they brains drippin
City of the Angels, more like a concrete jungle
full of macks Cadillacs and crack sacks
I pledge allegiance to the shit till I die
[Mack 10] So let the five-twenty slide and put it down from the WestSide
Chorus
WestSide!!!
("Throwin up the W")
Sing it
For the niggaz with the bumps
Bump, c'mon, ba-bump
Comin through the alley with a trunk full of funk
Nigga who is you?
Who me? Oh, I be that nigga from back in the days
Once again up in ya, Ain't a Damn Thing Changed
Ahh, stage left with the right angle even
We got the MAAD Circle in the house dis evenin
Get down, and ya don't quit
Yeah yeah, that's it damn nigga, rock this shit, rock it
Aight, check one one, peep the blizzo
My trademark, chanky as fuck, with the slow funky tempo (what?)
Bumpin, straight bumpin, neck thumpin
Stick out your tongue motherfuckers I'm comin
Hardcore's the way that I swing yo
Back in eighty-eight I used to flow for the crew Low Pro
A seven year vet still strong as malt liquor
So mirror mirror who's the motherfuckin nigga?
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Now when I look in the mirror, what do I see?
Besides a shady-ass nigga slash rapper one of the first to stab ya
Up up and away think quick oh now, images start to click
I see your reflection, description young male holdin his dillznick
Chest out like Popeye, deadly as Magic Johnson
Droppin my third album, back for more like Charles Bronson
Rhymes (what?) hey, hey, I got a million of em
Takin this so-called gangster rap to another level
The capital W to the motherfuckers C-me in a beanie
All-star so clean, saggin with my Turkish earring
Down with the mad-ass zoo, I thought you knew
I bring flavor to the picture, the motherfuckin nigga
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Horns...
Bring the beat back, bring that beat back, yeah
Like that so I can fuck it up and treat it as if it was a four track
Locked down for years now releasin myself
Lettin my testicles swing from right left left right then back to the left
It's that quickster, mad hister, nigga looka
Beast known to make you give your motherfuckin hood up
Cooler than a chollo, gettin my stroll on
Goin solo, fuck all you niggaz should be my logo
Bitches wasn't down now wannabe on my team
Cause I'm kickin raps tighter than Leroy on Fame jeans
But they gets nathin but dug out like a booger
Cause like Abdullah on Car Wash, I'm hip to the game of hookers
Put the, put, put the needle back in time
And I can still remember when niggaz wouldn't let me rhyme
Beat it Cleotus I used to hear it from record labels
No doubt, deep down knowin I take all they artists out
But check me out now nigga, you can't stop the reign
Here to reclaim the fame
It's the four fingers up, two twisted in the middle
So who's the nigga, mirror mirror solve the riddle
Cause I'm the motherfuckin nigga
Fuck that, I'm the one, shit
Horns...
Am I the flyest nigga?
Let it ride
I got put on the set, smokin Jimmy Jacks in a shack
with my nigga Coolio, got me to' the fuck back
High as a UFO, standin in my drawers
in the hall, talkin to the walls
Now a nigga's spooked, umm
*Snagglepuss voice* Heavens to merkatroids, I'm looped!
I'm tripping! *normal voice* Nigga what do I see?
It's me, that nigga Dub C on the TV
Now I know I'm buzzed
cause I'm on the TV but the TV's unplugged
Damn, this shit is like the Twilight Zone
*sings theme* Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na; I'm blowed!
Cause now I'm havin illusions, illusions
of me on channel eleven on a black and white tube and
Mack and the Gene are one of mine show
Hangin with Sinead and they sippin on the four-oh
Now I know I'm trippin *Martin Lawrence voice* Oh my goodness!
Let me change the TV and
Dizamn! Once again there I go
But this time it's channel thirteen on Arsenio
I'm smokin a wet one on the couch
Givin up a fat middle finger to the crowd
I'm faded, but not in a way in which you ever seen
peep the side effects, yeah, I'm on the set
Chorus: *singers*
Asshole naked standin in front of the set; I'm wet
Ain't no escapin when yo' ass is wet; I'm wet
Look, look, way up in the sky everybody just
look, look, and you'll find me flyin high
So there I was, standin in front of the set mesmerized
Kickin off the scenery right before me eyes
High as a motherfucker what was I to do?
Cause now the yerm has got me thinkin I'm on channel two
Peep it -- bip-bip-bip like the bi-on-ic man I'm out of control
and now I see myself on Highway Patrol
Runnin from the Feds tryin to make my get away
but there's *singin* nowhere to run, ba-bay
And now exhausted from this drama I needed a rest
So I went on channel four so I can catch my breath
Now who's this after five minutes of bein there
I met this motherfucker named the Fresh Prince of Bel Air
Yeah this nigga was funny I must admit it
but his Uncle and his cousin Carlton was straight bitches
Them niggaz was cock blockin, talkin bout killin me
cause I told em I wanted to fuck the shit out of Hillary, ooh
Now what's a realer trip to fantasy, all I know
is she was lookin good sportin them t-shirt and panties, huh
I can't believe this shit, nigga I'm wet
Fuck tricks, my mind is playin with dipsticks, I'm on the set
Chorus
Still blowed from the chemicals I'm askin was it worth it
Cause like Slick Rick now Dub C is scared and I'm nervous
Cause now the TV's changin by itself, uh-oh danger
Cause now I see myself on channel nine on the Gladiators
I'm swingin on a rope with a gauge
Boom, bang bang, you niggaz can't hang
Fuck a obstacle fool, I had them buff bitches runnin
Mass confusion now I hear one-time comin
So I swing to the exit, jumped off and jetted
Thank God mama kept the baby gat ready
I left all them bitches behind, til I got to channel fifty-two
and there I found myself on Good Times
Here was me and this nigga named J.J.
Out on a double date, just sippin on Kool-Aid
Now umm, ain't no need for me to pretenda
like my date was all that like J.J.'s boo-boo Belinda
yo, but she had a ass like Thelma, titties like Walona
Drunk off the Mad Dog I fucked around and boned her
Like J.J. the pussy was dy-no-mite though
I must admit the hoe had a mug as ugly as Flo'
I'm on tha set
*helicopter flies overhead*
[cop] One of twenty, I'm behind the vehicle
And there goes the suspect, he saw us now
*police siren*
*chopper still flying around*
*chains rustling*
Coolio, c'mon man, hurry up!
*chopper makes another pass*
*somebody whistles*
*chains rustling*
*siren stops*
[cop] Back here
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
Police officer, come on out or I'ma send in the dog
*whispered "fuck em"*
Front em, front em!!
[WC]
Yeahhhh, beeaaaa!!
Back up in the mutha-fucka
Crawlin up the letter to skanless
Givin it up, straight holdin my nuts
Dub-C nigga, still chanky as fuck
Fresh out, so fuck the world nigga
This is MAAD Circle to the fullest, everybody killa
Takin it back to the days of drum loops
And lyrical skills, before niggaz got record deals
The dope game, when beats was the product
And only those with mic control made a profit
Before the shady ass contracts and restrictions
When niggaz true to this ruled the underground connection
Back to the days of hardcore
So lock your doors, here comes the MAAD Circle
"You know, we do whatever we do to survive"
featuring Coolio
[WC]
You niggaz can't fade this nutty-ass cutthroat Maad Circle villain
Leanin, scheamin in the Gremlin
Sippin on Mak Duk, on my way to Compton
to pick this nigga Coolio up
Two ski masks, on my left a nine
Nigga on my breath, money on my mind (yeah)
You god damn right motherfucker it's on again
Coolio what's the plan?
[Coolio]
It's a motherfuckin come up, nigga load ya gun up
It's gonna be a stick-up, came up on the liquor
You know that bitch that I used to fuck -- named Theresa
(Yeah nigga, with the big ass butt)
Well her brother was a client of mine
Drive some turnaround trips back and forth to Vegas part time (yeah)
Well anyway I got a caper (uh)
And if we pull it off right we can come up on a stack of paper
Here go the plan: me, you, and him
cause the nigga drivin the bus is down with us
Call Crazy Toones and tell him to give you a ride
and drop you off on Manchester and Broadway, at half past five
Since old people don't trust young niggaz none
you gotta be disguised like a senior citizen
Don't worry about escape cause it's OK
I'll be chillin close behind all the motherfuckin way loc
And I don't wanna see you act up
but if anybody trip you better handle that shit
[WC]
Nah man fuck this, this shit sound shady as fuck
You gon' fuck around and have us all stuck motherfucker
[Coolio]
Quit actin like a hoe, and go get yo' fo'-fo' nigga
and let's make some dough, check this:
Nuttin plus nuttin equal none
Fool grab the motherfuckin money and run
[WC] Right come on
Chorus: WC
Diamond in the back, sun roof cracked
Tank on E, niggaz low on cash, oohh-woo
(some R&B; sample) "Straight jackin"
Chorus
[WC]
So now it's goin accordin to plan
I'm on the back of the bus dressed like a senior citizen
Sittin on a bus full of old motherfuckers
Wavin they bibles singin, "I love Jesus!"
And now my concious is fuckin with me
cause I'm about to rob the entire gospel choir
And I ain't askin no questions
Whoever don't reply, I'm sendin em hollow point blessings
Cause I was told at seven on the dot
No matter the spot, to execute the plot
And my watch read 6:59
So aww shucky ducky, quack quack it's yo' time
Hands in the motherfuckin air! *pop pop pop*
This is a jack nigga, and I'm startin from the back
Necklaces, anklets to bracelets
to the Rolexes, I'm takin all they shit, huh
I had em shakin, steady fadin, money breakin
fillin my bag up with bacon
Lookin out the window at Coolio
yellin out a car on the side of the bus, "Nigga c'mon!"
Yo, we gon' handle this loc
I told him like Janet Jackson, I had it under control
But really I was bein greedy takin too long
So peep the next verse but first the chorus of song goes
Chorus
[WC]
Standin in the middle of the aisle
A rag full of papes and jewelry, bout to make my escape
Coolio wavin, "C'mon nigga hurry up
before one-time swoop, and you get us all stuck!"
Aight so now I'm on my way to the front
Bus driver, pull to the side or I might have to dump
He was down with us on our shady operation
So he pulled the bus over with no hesitation
But that's when the drama kicked in
"Motherfucker take that!" *blam* Damn I got shot in the back
Looked up and who did I see?
This bitch-made ass bus driver puttin slugs in Dub C
Twistin afflicted, burnin like syphillis
Lookin at death and I'm coughin up flesh
Ran to the car, "Coolio I've been hit" "Huh?"
"I told you the shit sound like a motherfuckin twist!"
[Coolio]
Wait, what's wrong, what the FUCK GOIN ON?!
This nigga must be trippin, we gon' have to kill him
[WC] Cool here come nigga grab your gun
[Coolio] Alright, I'm gonna have me some fun
Forty-four in the right hand, nine in the left
So I put twelve rounds in his motherfuckin chest
I don't know if it's yo' birthday, but bitch here's yo' gift
That's what you get for the twist, yea
Chorus 2X
[WC] Maad Circle nigga
*beep*
Front, back, side to side
We be givin it up, until the day we DIE!
It's on!
Yeah baby I'm down here at Homey's Hydraulics
gettin my shit juicted UP!
Yeah I wants to be in one of them there videos
This Grandma
I'm Audi, seventeen
Nah fuck that, tabaow, I'm out!
*beep*
[Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
I got the funk inside me, yes it guides me
The light in my eyes, is shinin brightly
Just give me some deep bass, a snare and a kick drum
Turn it up loud and listen to the rhythm run
Whenever I'm feelin bad, angry or upset
I grab a cassette, and pop it in the tape deck
Album or eight-track, as long as it ain't wack
Funk is addictive, but not like crack black
I'm hip to the old shit, the shit that still hit
The Louisiana chicken and homemade biscuits
is makin my feet move, it sure does feel good
My head is bouncin, cruisin through my neighborhood
But this ain't pop though, R&B; or disco
Reggae or calypso, that's playin in my radio
It's that funk yes, won't settle for less
Sheeit, I must be blessed, now check it out
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
[W.C.]
Check it out
Now turn up your radio, EQ the stereo
I'm glad that y'all could make it to rock with the Maad Circle
And this is a preview, somethin to move to
Listen to groove to, I hope I don't lose you
Now I am the miracle, some say I'm spiritual
But I'm from the ghetto what? I live off Imperial
Dip dab smacked in the heart of South Central
I might make it out (why?) cause I got potential
I ain't livin by protocol, cross me you're sure to fall
Another sucker, sippin on some Eightball
Left by the wayside, run but you can't hide (yeah)
Call it foolish, but I got the funky ride
Now hear what I'm sayin (yup) You might think I'm playin
Been rappin so long, some say I need a vacation
Emcees wanna be me, some girls wanna skeeze me
But I play the back, cause I'm scared of A-I-D, S
to the next paragraph I must move on
You might know my face (why) cause I made a funky song
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 2X)
..
"Coo, Coolio! Show em what's on the mic!"
[Coolio]
I love the funk, and the funk loves me so
I'm stuck to the funk and I won't let go
Ain't no mountain high or valley ever deep enough
to keep me away from the rhythm of the funky stuff
I know who I am, and Sam I ain't
I'll never fake the funk, I won't cause I cain't
Crazy Toones on the fader, kinda like Funk Vader
On tape like great, dominate the record player
So Dub (whattup?) Won't you step to the front
and give the real meanin of the word funk
[W.C.]
What's my meanin of the word funk?
Well let me give a demonstration
Minority Alliance of Anti Discrimination
In other words, an organization of my homeboys
stealin from the rich and famous
And givin back to the poor folks in the slums, yo
Cause neither one of us forgot where we came from
Cause when you sellout, you're out, and we don't want ya back
Nigga playin both sides, I gotta peel his cap
Cause one thing the Circle ain't down with and that's
all these bourgeoise negroes, better known as COWARDS
Huh, sick of society, approval they try so hard
with your brand new cars
Try to fit in with the upper class, but the upper class
was a mask, and they LAUGHIN AT YO' ASS
That's why I'm down with the M.A.A.D. Circle
But still keepin it Low Pro, workin for the po' folks
So everybody watch your back
I'm like the spook who sat by the door with a gat yo
(I know you can funk these words to the letter
Get up on the funk and maybe you'll feel better, yo)
[W.C. and Coolio]
Get on up on that funk
And maybe you'll feel better
(repeat 4X)
[W.C.]
FUCK MY DADDY, is somethin I've been wantin to say for the longest
I'm givin peace to moms, cause moms was the strongest
Cause daddy abandoned me at a young age
And shoved me and my baby brother my mother's way
And comin home late every night
I used to hear him grabbin momma by the neck, lookin for fights
Lit as a wino, but sick as a psycho
I used to hide under the covers with my eyes closed
Cryin and hopin tonight that daddy didn't trip
Cause momma already need stitches in her top lip
Cause daddy got mad and beat the hell out of her
And throwin chairs against the wall every night, became a regular
I used to pray and hope that daddy would die
Cause over nothin momma's sufferin a swoll up black eye
And at the end of my prayers, cryin myself to sleep
All I could think about was FUCK MY DADDY
A well rounded family, yo I don't know
The way I grew up, wasn't nuthin like The Cosby Show
Pops never gave me no props, just cheap shots
Say the wrong thing and I just might get dropped
Cause I remember times when I asked for a quarter
And pops was on the verge of a voluntary manslaughter
Always screamin about the bills he had to pay
The story of his life, I thought about a runaway
Front for his friends and spendin all his ends
on his women, his dope and alcohol binges
My brother, my mother and me got two's and fews
Secondhand pants, Top Ramen, and holy shoes
It even got so scandalous, pops had me spendin the night
takin graveyard chances
Sleepin in the bed with his girlfriend kids
And I'm scared to tell my momma cause I might not live
I guess that you can say that Poppa was a Rolling Stone
But me I'm just a victim of the plague of the broken home
Another sad face with the sickness
Daddy must die, God is my witness
For doin my mother wrong, and breakin up her happy home
The reason that I wrote this song
is for those who can't or won't, I say it gladly
FUCK MY DADDY!
"Now you know, that you can't tell your momma we came here tonight."
"But that's my moms."
"I don't care, I'm your daddy -- boy you don't be talkin back"
"That ain't right though."
"I SAID you don't talk back to me son, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
"Yeah but that's my mom though, you can't do that."
"Don't talk back to me boy! Come here, I'll whoop your little ass!"
[W.C.]
Thank you momma for givin birth to me, God knows
you coulda got an abortion, and didn't have to deal with me
I know the last twelve years has been hell
You had two roles to play, momma and daddy as well
I'm sorry for the times I brought trouble home
Without a daddy thought a lot I had to learn on my own
At the young age of nine I start drinkin brews
And I even had to teach myself how to screw
And for my little brother things wasn't no better see
To him I was the closest thing he ever had to daddy
Helped him with his school and then taught him how to squab
Momma wasn't around, cause see she had three jobs
Cause daddy done tracked out, and left us with the bills
Now we eatin Wish burgers, and stale bread, and Skittles
Huh, and now that I look back, I'm glad I was young
Cause nowadays I mighta peeled his cap
Woulda grew up in a crazyhouse or penetentiary
Spendin most of my life, in maximum security
But nah, cause I'll be goin out just like a sucka
When I was young, pops told me that I'd grow to be nuttin
They keep tellin me revenge is a loss so don't sweat
But everytime I think of daddy I think of broke necks
Now, some might say that I'm wrong for speakin the truth
But when you tell the truth you gotta kick the whole scoop
This ain't a diss to every father cause some fathers are cool
This is a message from the Dub, that I had to include
To every kid on the Circle like me, hurtin badly
Put up your middle finger and say, FUCK MY DADDY!
"Fuck you, young ass punk motherfuckin daddy!"
Intro: WC
Yeah, ain't nothing changed, know what I'm saying?
Still the same old same old, W.C. still in effect
Yo, break it down Jinx
Verse One: WC
Damn, suckers got me picking up my pen again
Swinging on my jock like Tarzan
Looking for a change, hoping my head swoll
Thinking I'm rich cause I made a little video
Shaking my hand, yeah right, now I'm a cool brother
But as soon as I step off, you're calling me a sucker
Mad, because I bust a Benz on Lorenzos
Hanging on the boulevard fronting on the flow show
You know it's funny when you start making money
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry want to be your buddy
The same ones that dissed ya, now it's a list of
First to riff, now they all on your dick, yo
I'm looking at you laughing, popping your lip
Ripping my zipper onstage, can pay the bail with a limp
Y'all don't want to give it up to me now that I'm getting pumped
Run around like Calamine, the same old Dub
Do I know where I come from, who's my friends?
Who's responsible for this little spot that I'm in?
Yo, I see them all playing in my car when I drive by
Telling all my homies "Yo, he ain't that fly"
The beat just cause I made a record the record
So please don't make me better than the next man, erase that gameplan
Cause I'm still down to bust a cap then backslap
Those who pop rap at the mouth like Ex-Lax
And those who wanna test me, step right up, bro
My number's the same, oh by the way, it's in the ghetto
I'm sorry that I can't flaunt the fortune and fame
But when it comes to the Dub (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Two: Coolio
Ain't a damn thing changed, sucker, how could ya figure?
Coolio and Crazy Toons will never sell out, nigga
Sporting khakis and T-shirts, beanies and Starter caps
And land funky raps on the dop tracks
Should I dance on it for a couple of dollars?
Or sell away my soul to put a rope on my collar?
I was taken from the missed of the lost and missing
Rapping on dark road on my way to prison
Stuck me in the studio, put me on the radio
Told me to perpetrate like I was a hero
I ain't with that, Toons got my back
Do I have to use a gat to show you where I'm at?
Or pose with a forty ounce and fake like a killer
With a long black Cack like a small-time dope dealer
Diamonds on my finger and women at my feet
A house that I don't own and no respect on the street
Might be detained, cause I ain't trying
Let me explain, when it comes to Coolio (Ain't a damn thing changed)
Verse Three: WC
Whoever said living in the spotlight is simple as one, two, three
Ha, they must have been sipping on a ?Twizzeline?
Cause man I ain't used to this unusual behavior
Who wants a friendly neighbor?
Girls way back that told me to go to hell
Is sitting backstage, want to go to the motel
MC's that pretending that they was down from the giddy up
Trying to call you by your first name and stuff
Yo, and all these fake promoters stepping to the Circle
Remember how you treated us 12 months ago?
Yo, you didn't know bro, now you want a show
Toons tell 'em what's up (Give it up sucker duck)
Yeah, remember that the capital W told ya
Suckers don't fade me, popping hogging my jock
I keep to myself and I step with the pep
The lyrics of death, tell me how it sounds, G (Cool)
Waord, since I have to prove that I'm the same
And still remain dropping dogs in this rap game
To make it all simple and plain
Well let me put it like this: (Ain't a damn thing changed)
![DJ Crazy Toones - It's A CT Experience The DVD Files[PART 2]](http://web.archive.org./web/20131214093240im_/http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/NELZwMI3HLo/0.jpg "DJ Crazy Toones - It's A CT Experience The DVD Files[PART 2]")
![DJ Crazy Toones - It's A CT Experience The DVD Files[PART 1]](http://web.archive.org./web/20131214093240im_/http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/gC44j7VQ-Ng/0.jpg "DJ Crazy Toones - It's A CT Experience The DVD Files[PART 1]")
