[ VERSE 1: WC ]
|
It's that MAAD Circle, lil'-ass loc'ed out
|
Tick-tick-boom, here to clear the room
|
Get em like this when I drop number three
|
Cause ain't nobody bad like me
|
It's the, it's the rizzapper
|
You wanna c-c-c-clack, what? Yeah fool, run up
|
Non-believers who didn't believe us
|
That we was comin back out, y'all can eat this
|
Diggidy-diggedy-dick in ya mouth
|
Cause papa's got a brand new bag here to tag
|
With the .44 mag that'll Color you Badd
|
And to you rap critics who said I wouldn't last
|
I need to jump out the speakers and strangle your ass
|
Cause never would I let the politics in rap
|
Or the shady contracts play me out like that
|
I know you can't stand to see a real loc'ster ride
|
So let it rain, let it drip fool, dump on ( ? )
|
[ CHORUS ]
|
So all you locsters and you hoes
|
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
|
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
|
Takin over your radio
|
Nod your head to this here song
|
You like me, get your straight mob on
|
[ VERSE 2: WC ]
|
You shoulda known it don't stop, this is just a taste
|
So party people play like Xscape
|
And just 'kick off your shoes and relax your feet'
|
Bump that brand new Double-U-C
|
I been spendin the most of my time in the cut
|
Finessin my skills so one day I could bust
|
Off a fresh, fresh.. fresh, fresh
|
The beats that are fresh, fresh
|
Comin from the wild wild west
|
But it's got to be different
|
Than the nor-nor-normal styles that I be dishin
|
Kickin, stickin, but still grippin
|
Pop, pop, fizz, fizz
|
It's 1995 and I'm sick of this shit
|
And when rappers as they dangle from my jock
|
Pickin mo' niggas up than jack in a box
|
It don't stop
|
[ CHORUS ]
|
So all you locsters and you hoes
|
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
|
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
|
Takin over your radio
|
Nod your head to this here song
|
You like me, get your straight mob on
|
This year I'm takin my props
|
And like my nigga P said it don't stop till the casket drop
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
[ VERSE 3: WC ]
|
Quick, somebody help me out, get the taser gun
|
Doub's under the sun and it's f-f-f-fun
|
Here to represent, no better yet, here to claim
|
That loc'ed out MA-MA-MA-MAAD Circle gang, fool
|
Marks keep on slippin, slippin -
|
No wait a minute, dudes, wrong song
|
You know what, I'ma just give em a touch
|
Of what? That funk-funk-funky stuff
|
Niggas imitate, but they can't flip it like this
|
Nah sit, Boo Boo sit, let go my dick
|
Cause I've been watchin, watchin, watchin you watchin me
|
WC and no, my name ain't Winnie
|
I ain't got a perm muthafucka, but lyrics I got plenty
|
And when it comes to this I'm rankin at the top
|
( ? ) on my beach cruiser, puttin in work, it don't stop
|
[ CHORUS ]
|
So all you locsters and you hoes
|
Grab yo khakis and yo locs
|
It's that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
|
Takin over your radio
|
Nod your head to this here song
|
You like me, get your straight mob on
|
You shoulda known it don't stop
|
The Circle never fakes the funk, so muthafuckas give it up
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
Here comes the Doub, here comes the Doub
|
Everybody, everybody, here comes the Doub
|
|
-----------------
|
Taking Ova
|
| W.C. |