Nuthin' To Do Lyrics
| Song | Nuthin' To Do |
| Artist | Common |
| Album | Resurrection |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Common | |
| Intro： | |
| Check it on the one, you com is gonna come (x3) | |
| And check it out, ha. | |
| Verse 1： | |
| My raps do laps around tracks to the days | |
| The idiot vibin', i'm the comma comma chamelion | |
| I use to pop the willy on my blue and gray sting ray | |
| It had maxed, i was with bitches that had coochie | |
| Bassum wasn't rollin' starters, looking harder than niggas | |
| Hoes wore clothes, that exposed their figures | |
| Ain't 7 steps in the jam, next the police come | |
| Heist there would be one, numbers i would get at least one | |
| We come to the get together with whatever | |
| You wouldn't know how deep it was, we all did shit together | |
| Eat up all your vittles, drink your brew and then step to | |
| The next cue, let's do it again y'all | |
| That was when mad was tall and phat was cold | |
| The days of old chicage and fun town and shorties we run round | |
| Play strike outs till sun down, but the shit ain't as fun now | |
| And the city is all run down, we troop down to jew town | |
| Talking cat down on some gear, have enough for a polish incom fair | |
| I stare, at what use to be bubbles and think about who use to cop our | |
| Liquior | |
| (who?) our neighborhood father figure | |
| Hook: | |
| I'm out with my crew, ain't nuthin' to do but ah, | |
| 'niggas be rollin'' - ol' dirty bastard from protect ya neck | |
| Ain't nowhere to go, so i hook up with a hoe while i | |
| 'niggas be rollin'' | |
| Gotta make a stop take a leak and get some chops cause um | |
| 'niggas be rollin'' | |
| We gonna hit the streets for some brew and some eats cause um | |
| 'niggas be rollin'' | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I got more rhymes then the manor got folks had style | |
| Since i went to mcdowl, wearin' boats | |
| And penny loafers know i had the nickel in mines | |
| We use to hoop in my yard but now i dribble the rhyme | |
| It's like rain drops couldn't make our game stop | |
| Skeeter will hit from the same spot | |
| Torla tore my shit down, get down, put your body in motion | |
| Only the strong survive, but on the 6 or the 5 | |
| Live as hot as sex use to be at the racket | |
| Wrong club with music by andre hatchet | |
| Or either beat box ferris at them country club parties | |
| Would be hot as hell and house stud would get 'find a body!' | |
| Sawyers i would go there, hip hop clubs were so rare | |
| I like the music anyways and it was always hoes there | |
| Was said to have the best chicks but mostly high park and v hoes | |
| Is who i mess with, the best shit was troopin' to the loop | |
| With your posisions held class crooked ass but still go the division | |
| (i remember that) over yamela's crib while his old girl was at work | |
| Bust a smoothie on the spread, but sill have some on your shirt | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: | |
| I tuned into bmx and taped farly on the tonemaster | |
| I took the 6 instead of the 28 to get home faster | |
| Then hbk was the only station that would fuck with rap | |
| You was on the shore by yourself castin' stay up your act | |
| What you could make of it, you was a gump they was takin' shit | |
| Either fight or break for it, we go to the lake and get full | |
| My drink there was boons and red bull | |
| I remember swimming in avenlon, and being in a pool | |
| I thought i was cool, with my 'members only' and a bold fade | |
| Wall to wall greens to get the sport gray and palmade | |
| And soft breasts, as we got older we would star crush and bang fags | |
| Go to marshals and change tags, i snagged nuff niggas | |
| And games are off the wall, in softball, piggy one i would call | |
| When i first got my three way callin', i caught marsh tryin' to lie | |
| Home of the original gangbangers, and ain't nobody shot | |
| Hook |
| zuo ci : Common | |
| Intro: | |
| Check it on the one, you com is gonna come x3 | |
| And check it out, ha. | |
| Verse 1: | |
| My raps do laps around tracks to the days | |
| The idiot vibin', i' m the comma comma chamelion | |
| I use to pop the willy on my blue and gray sting ray | |
| It had maxed, i was with bitches that had coochie | |
| Bassum wasn' t rollin' starters, looking harder than niggas | |
| Hoes wore clothes, that exposed their figures | |
| Ain' t 7 steps in the jam, next the police come | |
| Heist there would be one, numbers i would get at least one | |
| We come to the get together with whatever | |
| You wouldn' t know how deep it was, we all did shit together | |
| Eat up all your vittles, drink your brew and then step to | |
| The next cue, let' s do it again y' all | |
| That was when mad was tall and phat was cold | |
| The days of old chicage and fun town and shorties we run round | |
| Play strike outs till sun down, but the shit ain' t as fun now | |
| And the city is all run down, we troop down to jew town | |
| Talking cat down on some gear, have enough for a polish incom fair | |
| I stare, at what use to be bubbles and think about who use to cop our | |
| Liquior | |
| who? our neighborhood father figure | |
| Hook: | |
| I' m out with my crew, ain' t nuthin' to do but ah, | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' ol' dirty bastard from protect ya neck | |
| Ain' t nowhere to go, so i hook up with a hoe while i | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| Gotta make a stop take a leak and get some chops cause um | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| We gonna hit the streets for some brew and some eats cause um | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I got more rhymes then the manor got folks had style | |
| Since i went to mcdowl, wearin' boats | |
| And penny loafers know i had the nickel in mines | |
| We use to hoop in my yard but now i dribble the rhyme | |
| It' s like rain drops couldn' t make our game stop | |
| Skeeter will hit from the same spot | |
| Torla tore my shit down, get down, put your body in motion | |
| Only the strong survive, but on the 6 or the 5 | |
| Live as hot as sex use to be at the racket | |
| Wrong club with music by andre hatchet | |
| Or either beat box ferris at them country club parties | |
| Would be hot as hell and house stud would get ' find a body!' | |
| Sawyers i would go there, hip hop clubs were so rare | |
| I like the music anyways and it was always hoes there | |
| Was said to have the best chicks but mostly high park and v hoes | |
| Is who i mess with, the best shit was troopin' to the loop | |
| With your posisions held class crooked ass but still go the division | |
| i remember that over yamela' s crib while his old girl was at work | |
| Bust a smoothie on the spread, but sill have some on your shirt | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: | |
| I tuned into bmx and taped farly on the tonemaster | |
| I took the 6 instead of the 28 to get home faster | |
| Then hbk was the only station that would fuck with rap | |
| You was on the shore by yourself castin' stay up your act | |
| What you could make of it, you was a gump they was takin' shit | |
| Either fight or break for it, we go to the lake and get full | |
| My drink there was boons and red bull | |
| I remember swimming in avenlon, and being in a pool | |
| I thought i was cool, with my ' members only' and a bold fade | |
| Wall to wall greens to get the sport gray and palmade | |
| And soft breasts, as we got older we would star crush and bang fags | |
| Go to marshals and change tags, i snagged nuff niggas | |
| And games are off the wall, in softball, piggy one i would call | |
| When i first got my three way callin', i caught marsh tryin' to lie | |
| Home of the original gangbangers, and ain' t nobody shot | |
| Hook |
| zuò cí : Common | |
| Intro: | |
| Check it on the one, you com is gonna come x3 | |
| And check it out, ha. | |
| Verse 1: | |
| My raps do laps around tracks to the days | |
| The idiot vibin', i' m the comma comma chamelion | |
| I use to pop the willy on my blue and gray sting ray | |
| It had maxed, i was with bitches that had coochie | |
| Bassum wasn' t rollin' starters, looking harder than niggas | |
| Hoes wore clothes, that exposed their figures | |
| Ain' t 7 steps in the jam, next the police come | |
| Heist there would be one, numbers i would get at least one | |
| We come to the get together with whatever | |
| You wouldn' t know how deep it was, we all did shit together | |
| Eat up all your vittles, drink your brew and then step to | |
| The next cue, let' s do it again y' all | |
| That was when mad was tall and phat was cold | |
| The days of old chicage and fun town and shorties we run round | |
| Play strike outs till sun down, but the shit ain' t as fun now | |
| And the city is all run down, we troop down to jew town | |
| Talking cat down on some gear, have enough for a polish incom fair | |
| I stare, at what use to be bubbles and think about who use to cop our | |
| Liquior | |
| who? our neighborhood father figure | |
| Hook: | |
| I' m out with my crew, ain' t nuthin' to do but ah, | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' ol' dirty bastard from protect ya neck | |
| Ain' t nowhere to go, so i hook up with a hoe while i | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| Gotta make a stop take a leak and get some chops cause um | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| We gonna hit the streets for some brew and some eats cause um | |
| ' niggas be rollin'' | |
| Verse 2: | |
| I got more rhymes then the manor got folks had style | |
| Since i went to mcdowl, wearin' boats | |
| And penny loafers know i had the nickel in mines | |
| We use to hoop in my yard but now i dribble the rhyme | |
| It' s like rain drops couldn' t make our game stop | |
| Skeeter will hit from the same spot | |
| Torla tore my shit down, get down, put your body in motion | |
| Only the strong survive, but on the 6 or the 5 | |
| Live as hot as sex use to be at the racket | |
| Wrong club with music by andre hatchet | |
| Or either beat box ferris at them country club parties | |
| Would be hot as hell and house stud would get ' find a body!' | |
| Sawyers i would go there, hip hop clubs were so rare | |
| I like the music anyways and it was always hoes there | |
| Was said to have the best chicks but mostly high park and v hoes | |
| Is who i mess with, the best shit was troopin' to the loop | |
| With your posisions held class crooked ass but still go the division | |
| i remember that over yamela' s crib while his old girl was at work | |
| Bust a smoothie on the spread, but sill have some on your shirt | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: | |
| I tuned into bmx and taped farly on the tonemaster | |
| I took the 6 instead of the 28 to get home faster | |
| Then hbk was the only station that would fuck with rap | |
| You was on the shore by yourself castin' stay up your act | |
| What you could make of it, you was a gump they was takin' shit | |
| Either fight or break for it, we go to the lake and get full | |
| My drink there was boons and red bull | |
| I remember swimming in avenlon, and being in a pool | |
| I thought i was cool, with my ' members only' and a bold fade | |
| Wall to wall greens to get the sport gray and palmade | |
| And soft breasts, as we got older we would star crush and bang fags | |
| Go to marshals and change tags, i snagged nuff niggas | |
| And games are off the wall, in softball, piggy one i would call | |
| When i first got my three way callin', i caught marsh tryin' to lie | |
| Home of the original gangbangers, and ain' t nobody shot | |
| Hook |
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