meet the whoops - jasonmartin & dj quik lyrics
[intro: mari ruger]
meet the whoops b*tch!
the dawg
[verse 1: mari ruger]
when there’s nowhere for me to run
i accepted the fact that my lifestyle is reality
grew up, i had my mama mad at me
hanging with the homies, thirteen, smoking weed
and n*gga i throw ps for the camp, r.i.p mausberg
i was quick to get her back, i played the b*tch ’cause my heart hurt
rappers tryna get stamped, tap in with the parkers
i’m on the j side, the mainline ain’t far, you marks
[verse 2: hittaj3]
and it’s no competition, pull the blood from any opposition
you can be a known driller and be a fake politician
i can’t wait for it, the clock ticking
can’t takе my soul, b*tch, it’s god given
you the type to sеnd ’em out to crash but was not with ’em
he’ll be lucky if he make it to the hospital
same blood in the veins, juice red, minute maid
hitting every direction, it’ll ricochet
[verse 3: rosecrans hopout]
and i’m just whoopin down memory lane, true to the game
like the book i used to read as a youth, i’m [?]
never thought i’d be booked by the feds, looking through pages
fighting the case, icing on cakes, typical states, look
they said chuno the sumo
rap liu kang, kid flamer spit judo
put me in a two*door, free my dawgs in the cage who off the pruno
r.i.p to my n*gga, du*rum, look
[verse 4: slumlord trill]
uh, like that, nah, like this
at the crenshaw mall but it’s all on a b*tch
who is that? nah, don’t trip
it’s a westside thang, all my dawgs in this b*tch
digital, silver satin with the bool*aid
digital, chuck taylors with the red strings
digital, grew up taking gang fades
digital, gettin ghost when the pigs came
i ain’t nothing special, i’m a n*gga that rap
j gang, i put the hood on my back
[verse 5: jay worthy]
check it out, drinking 8*ball like it’s ’91
in the sl benz that’s from ’91
hanging with my friends better known as the homies
my gd, damu, my s*s, p funky
rapping over quik beats, i’m way too funky
panda ru call a meeting then we all gon huddle
touch down, hands on, know my squad don’t fumble
slapping 4bent in a 87 butlass, meet the whoops
[verse 6: ys]
ayy, picture me rolling like 2pac, no biggie
in my bentley, we tote fullies, what the f*ck is a semi?
i’ll put on for the phillies in my section, it get risky
short fuse, long sticks, i been praying n*ggas tempt me
i been teaching n*ggas lessons since i was an adolescent
making n*ggas use they legs, firearms in my possession
i’ve from west nellas, i don’t give a f*ck what n*ggas reppin
and it’s deuce to the o, even when a n*gga restin
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