Nothin 2 A Bo$$ Lyrics

Yukmouth – Nothin 2 A Bo$$
Haha... I can't believe you niggas. You can't be serious. You really thought since 'Pac died the West coast fell the f**k off, huh? You thought since Dre ain't made a album, we flopped? f**k that shit nigga! Rap-A-Lot for life nigga! Yukmouth nigga! West Coast don nigga! What's wit it punk?! It's nuthin to a boss nigga! We been ridin on dubb's that spin nigga! We been poppin bottles, nigga, since 'Pac was alive nigga. The West Coast is back you faggot a*s f**ks!
I'm from the West Coast and never-ever crip-walk. I'm like the Bird Man, platinum grill, big cross an I'm tryin to sell a few mill like Kris Kross. I'm ultra cocky, tell a chicken get lost. Diss the boss an get ya lips ripped off. I let clips off, ya whole click soft. What you know about a hundred on a wrist watch. Twenty on ya chicks watch, loungin Gucci flip flops, and I bang in the club like Rick Rock. Yuk show you how to rock that real thug hip-hop. They ride lo-lo's, Yukmouth flip drops off the floor every year is a whip hop. Menage-a-trios all year if ya chick jock. With ten karats in my ear like a big shot. Godzilla get the scrilla like Chris Rock, an I'ma bring the West back when my shit drop.

To roll around on 24's. Wit plenty millions in a vouge. Everything a nigga want. It's nothin 2 a boss! So much ice a nigga froze custom rides wit 3-1-0's. Until I die it's all West coast, it's nothin big to a boss!

Yeah... if you gon' do it, do it right. I'm in the blue and white. Rally striped Vipe leavin Peanuts wit a crew of dykes. Tuesday night I got my game together. I'm dangerous fella, my rims spin like plane propellers. an I'm down wit Prince James forever. Rap-A-Lot fo' lia.
Yukmouth, Scarface an Tela, and ya'll know Yuk is off the meter. For all you non-believers, I spark the heater. I'm what you call a block leader. Why you hatin? I roll through ya radio station wit Gary Payton. In a franchise Lac outside on cherry Dayton's. An rock the new blue Burberry, make every nation feel the thug vibration, uh. My cars talk back like Michael Knight. I got a hundred on a Roy Jones and Tyson fight. You wanna roll wit baller, well tonight's ya night. I rock ice cause the price is right. Step it up hater. Yeah
CHORUS
Every day I'm poppin a bottle, and poppin a tag. Fourty G's in a Gucci bag, I'm coppin a Jag. Two-hundred G's in a Louie bag, I'm coppin a pad, wit the dragon shaped tool in the bag. What you know about that?! What you know about chronic an Hypnotic, coppin Lamborghini's from 3-1-0 an Simbalic. Drop stretch Hummers, twenty-four inch rims on it. ??? skin interior wit the suede trim on it, wait!
I came in the game wit mobsta tales. I hit Mr. Chow's for meals, crack lobster tails. At the mall wit a model who only buys Chanelle. You wish I fell, but I prevail, Yukmouth is ill. I rock the 'Wheels of Fortune' like Pat Sajack. In a black Maybach, I'm tryin to bring the Bay back
in a A's throw back and a A's hat. Yuk a beast, and bleach couldn't fade that! What?!
CHORUS