lirik lagu on my cide – dazzie dee
[chorus (x4)]
don’t ya come wit me (and?), creep wit me (where?), on my cide? (right)
[verse 1: dazzie dee]
do you wanna come and rip sh*t deep
where n*ggas take to the g, from my cide
that w*s, west bringin’ that’s ’66 hot low low on lock up
but stop when everythin’ pops, 187 on the cops
so let’s represent and not deep to the ? thug
daily spokes, indo smoke
she keeps passing me by, stay high
’cause n*ggas this way stay high
y’all n*ggas really better not stay posted, uh, you’ll get toasted
roll ’em up ’cause i got a lot of indo to puff
livin’ in the ghetto stays rough, so tough
it’s been a long time since we hoo ride
so let’s slide, hit right, on my cide
[chorus (x4)]
don’t ya come wit me (and?), creep wit me (where?), on my cide? (right)
[verse 2: tha chill]
flossin’ on the 105th to the sc
to see what the f*ck was up with the homie dazzie dee
? on the pimpin’ yo, dippin’ on the west street, 111th to 106th
now ? my man steps off the porch, all blue khakis shorts
jump out the cutlass, puffin’ on a newport
gave to my n*gga a dap, now we stepped to the back room
sat down, he pulling out a bag of boom
good sh*t, the bomb good sh*t (ahh sh*t)
the sh*t that make your ass take one hit and quit
n*gga, take a toke on, the homie got dressed
jumps in the cutlass, we head to the west (westside)
get our ride on to the fullest, slow
set trip, n*gga get smoke
do you think y’know about the ?
call me k!lla, call me chill but nothin’, n*gga ?
[chorus (x4)]
don’t ya come wit me (and?), creep wit me (where?), on my cide? (right)
[verse 3: coolio]
it’s all about what you do and not what you know
my mama was a pimp, so i could never be a ho
don’t you want creep with me?
it’s that n*gga from the cpt, call me a g
funky rhyme rippin’, hit the hennessy sippin’
ten ? pimpin’, that’s how i’m livin’
rollin’ in the caddy with my homeboy dazzie
you don’t want to make him mad
’cause he might have to blast
you can call me c*o, you can call me ?
but when it’s time to ?, just don’t forget to get load
cold like dice when the dice hit the ground
i ain’t like brady but n*gga, i’m down
’65 cutlass bumpin’ front to the back
bumpin’ that, bumpin that funk
with about 100 n*ggas in the trunk
sittin’ on the phone with a n*gga named showie
yeah, we roll deep, that’s how we live
[chorus (x8)]
don’t ya come wit me (and?), creep wit me (where?), on my cide? (right)
don’t ya, don’t ya…
[skit]
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