| 作词 : King, Mceanna, Sans, Stevens | |
| Freak nasty super bad, earring in her tongue | |
| Smell good, Prada bag, angel perfume cologne | |
| I'm tryin to have me that, lipstick by Mac | |
| Make like a car accident, hit her from the back | |
| My fetti might be salty but my game ain't damp, see I be hood(?) | |
| but the only cheese I ever had, was from the goods | |
| and man that was divided among (?) brothers and sisters | |
| Raised without a dad | |
| Basically we was supposed to be have to make good | |
| but what we hadn't (?) get the gat from one of my (?) | |
| on the tough, Uncle Bruce(?) | |
| Hustle in my veins and lungs, sucker pump | |
| Chickenheads squash through my hood, with good intentions | |
| but always end up sparkin antennas on bus benches | |
| Watchu know, whatchu say, what's the sco'? | |
| Is it a go? Then you with me after the show | |
| You smell? We hit the hotel, and knock boots | |
| Taught me some thangs, like who? Like Dr. Ruth | |
| HEY!! (HEY!!) HOE!! (HOE!!) | |
| All up in the kitchen on the flo', feel the mantra | |
| Chorus: repeat 2X {sung} | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| [Do what you know good] | |
| [E-40] | |
| Uhh, rappers sport my style like they sport clothes | |
| then have the nerve to say they made it up, now that's some hoes | |
| That ain't no stickin to the rules and regulationship | |
| That ain't no man if he can't admit he grew up on The Click | |
| On the East they got hot dogs and pretzel stands | |
| On the West they got tacos and burrito vans | |
| In the South, it's (??) and briscuit | |
| What about the Midwest? The midwest, dey just love to kick it! | |
| Top shelf, ghetto tycoon the area sponsor | |
| Can't be seen, like Bigfoot, and the Loch Ness Monster | |
| Dialin for dollars paper route and money counters | |
| Scrilla scratchin paper chasin poppin collars | |
| Chorus | |
| [singer] | |
| Do what I know good | |
| I kick it in the hood real good | |
| Smoke real fat big blunts | |
| Sticky-ickies to the lil' krunks | |
| Thirty-one double-eight-seven, that's nine-eleven | |
| Act like you're livin | |
| [E-40] | |
| I ain't no Captain | |
| At the bar, signin autographs on napkins | |
| Ball til we have it all - bartender talkin about | |
| "Last call for alcohol!" | |
| I'm bout to get to, mashin on that (??) | |
| if we don't get no mo' (??) throw glasses at that Moesha fag | |
| and I'm walkin up out the do', step stuck and stutterin | |
| Didn't even screw up and hit the floor | |
| If I woulda fell, it woulda been embarassing | |
| Full of that there liquor, walked into a closet | |
| But I'm a king size nigga, baby pull my coattail! And just.. | |
| Chorus |
| zuo ci : King, Mceanna, Sans, Stevens | |
| Freak nasty super bad, earring in her tongue | |
| Smell good, Prada bag, angel perfume cologne | |
| I' m tryin to have me that, lipstick by Mac | |
| Make like a car accident, hit her from the back | |
| My fetti might be salty but my game ain' t damp, see I be hood? | |
| but the only cheese I ever had, was from the goods | |
| and man that was divided among ? brothers and sisters | |
| Raised without a dad | |
| Basically we was supposed to be have to make good | |
| but what we hadn' t ? get the gat from one of my ? | |
| on the tough, Uncle Bruce? | |
| Hustle in my veins and lungs, sucker pump | |
| Chickenheads squash through my hood, with good intentions | |
| but always end up sparkin antennas on bus benches | |
| Watchu know, whatchu say, what' s the sco'? | |
| Is it a go? Then you with me after the show | |
| You smell? We hit the hotel, and knock boots | |
| Taught me some thangs, like who? Like Dr. Ruth | |
| HEY!! HEY!! HOE!! HOE!! | |
| All up in the kitchen on the flo', feel the mantra | |
| Chorus: repeat 2X sung | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| Do what you know good | |
| E40 | |
| Uhh, rappers sport my style like they sport clothes | |
| then have the nerve to say they made it up, now that' s some hoes | |
| That ain' t no stickin to the rules and regulationship | |
| That ain' t no man if he can' t admit he grew up on The Click | |
| On the East they got hot dogs and pretzel stands | |
| On the West they got tacos and burrito vans | |
| In the South, it' s ?? and briscuit | |
| What about the Midwest? The midwest, dey just love to kick it! | |
| Top shelf, ghetto tycoon the area sponsor | |
| Can' t be seen, like Bigfoot, and the Loch Ness Monster | |
| Dialin for dollars paper route and money counters | |
| Scrilla scratchin paper chasin poppin collars | |
| Chorus | |
| singer | |
| Do what I know good | |
| I kick it in the hood real good | |
| Smoke real fat big blunts | |
| Stickyickies to the lil' krunks | |
| Thirtyone doubleeightseven, that' s nineeleven | |
| Act like you' re livin | |
| E40 | |
| I ain' t no Captain | |
| At the bar, signin autographs on napkins | |
| Ball til we have it all bartender talkin about | |
| " Last call for alcohol!" | |
| I' m bout to get to, mashin on that ?? | |
| if we don' t get no mo' ?? throw glasses at that Moesha fag | |
| and I' m walkin up out the do', step stuck and stutterin | |
| Didn' t even screw up and hit the floor | |
| If I woulda fell, it woulda been embarassing | |
| Full of that there liquor, walked into a closet | |
| But I' m a king size nigga, baby pull my coattail! And just.. | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : King, Mceanna, Sans, Stevens | |
| Freak nasty super bad, earring in her tongue | |
| Smell good, Prada bag, angel perfume cologne | |
| I' m tryin to have me that, lipstick by Mac | |
| Make like a car accident, hit her from the back | |
| My fetti might be salty but my game ain' t damp, see I be hood? | |
| but the only cheese I ever had, was from the goods | |
| and man that was divided among ? brothers and sisters | |
| Raised without a dad | |
| Basically we was supposed to be have to make good | |
| but what we hadn' t ? get the gat from one of my ? | |
| on the tough, Uncle Bruce? | |
| Hustle in my veins and lungs, sucker pump | |
| Chickenheads squash through my hood, with good intentions | |
| but always end up sparkin antennas on bus benches | |
| Watchu know, whatchu say, what' s the sco'? | |
| Is it a go? Then you with me after the show | |
| You smell? We hit the hotel, and knock boots | |
| Taught me some thangs, like who? Like Dr. Ruth | |
| HEY!! HEY!! HOE!! HOE!! | |
| All up in the kitchen on the flo', feel the mantra | |
| Chorus: repeat 2X sung | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| Do what you do good, cause you know what you know good | |
| Do what you know good | |
| E40 | |
| Uhh, rappers sport my style like they sport clothes | |
| then have the nerve to say they made it up, now that' s some hoes | |
| That ain' t no stickin to the rules and regulationship | |
| That ain' t no man if he can' t admit he grew up on The Click | |
| On the East they got hot dogs and pretzel stands | |
| On the West they got tacos and burrito vans | |
| In the South, it' s ?? and briscuit | |
| What about the Midwest? The midwest, dey just love to kick it! | |
| Top shelf, ghetto tycoon the area sponsor | |
| Can' t be seen, like Bigfoot, and the Loch Ness Monster | |
| Dialin for dollars paper route and money counters | |
| Scrilla scratchin paper chasin poppin collars | |
| Chorus | |
| singer | |
| Do what I know good | |
| I kick it in the hood real good | |
| Smoke real fat big blunts | |
| Stickyickies to the lil' krunks | |
| Thirtyone doubleeightseven, that' s nineeleven | |
| Act like you' re livin | |
| E40 | |
| I ain' t no Captain | |
| At the bar, signin autographs on napkins | |
| Ball til we have it all bartender talkin about | |
| " Last call for alcohol!" | |
| I' m bout to get to, mashin on that ?? | |
| if we don' t get no mo' ?? throw glasses at that Moesha fag | |
| and I' m walkin up out the do', step stuck and stutterin | |
| Didn' t even screw up and hit the floor | |
| If I woulda fell, it woulda been embarassing | |
| Full of that there liquor, walked into a closet | |
| But I' m a king size nigga, baby pull my coattail! And just.. | |
| Chorus |
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