[Doc Doom]
Oh how I love my a hundred spokes
Flossin and sh**
California
Flossin on them gold ones
Black Knights
The chrome ones
Old ones
I sold them
Sippin on a cold one
Rollin on them gold ones
The chrome ones
The old ones
I sold them
Can I get a drum roll please
For my gold D's?
Hundred spoke Daytonas
Wish we all could be California
Smokin bankin the corners in a black six-deuce
Hittin switches, dippin
Sip'n on that act rite juice
Act like you
Wan' try and take my D's
Watch how fast
These slugs In this thang gon' leave
Watch how many
Holes in ya body it leaves
Watch how much pints of blood you bleed
May the fake thugs retreat
Pop up, barkin the heat
Caravanin nine-to-ten cars deep
Down the 'shaw
The Knights is known for breakin laws
And if a b**h is ridin with me, she's takin it off
Like get on ya job
If not b**h, I'm layin you off
Cuz I guess the last n***a that you f**ed with was soft
That ain't me
It cost just to floss with me
OH how I love to floss dn my hundred spoke D's
[Hook 3.5X: Doc Doom]
Rollin
Sippin on a cold one
Rollin on them gold ones
The chrome ones
The old ones
I sold them
[RZA]
Yo, Up in a black urban tank
Labelled GMC
Smokin on a Newport long and PCP
Gat tucked in
Easy pa**, I'm low duckin
Dimepiece bird on the side I'm finger-f**in
Bouncin off this deuce-deuces
Fat like Polo gooses
Eighteen-inch woofers, movin studio acoustics
Rim tri-star, chrome on my side-bar
Don't hate, crab, cuz I caught ya b**h eye par
Platinum grill, re-enforced solid steel
Supercharge engine, force of an eighteen wheel
That'll crash through brick walls, smash intersections
Move through ya city escorted, with police protection
Heated polished seats with back ma**agers
You gotta know how to roll 'em, like Kenny Rogers
Tinted gla**, PS2 plus Dreamcast
Smoke screens, blindin high blasts
GPS satellite navigation
Automatic lock doors, drive jackers to the station
You got beef you get fed to Doc Doom, coon
You can't f** with Wu k**a Bee Clan platoon
I might get Holocaust to come and cough on you
My n***a Crisis, might love to let one off on you
The Rugged Monk, rolls up another blunt
The great Digi goes and lures out another c*nt
Cuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
Ain't got no money or love, for you funny fools
Cuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
Sippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools
[RuggedMonk]
I'm from the land of chaos, where n***as get shot for trippin
I caught a fool slippin on some D's, now I'm steady dippin
Cruisin, movin up the block
Cuz I'm the sh**
Stick dick to hoodrats, make gangsta hits
I baptize my sticks, Ice skate on seventeens
On the 405, Oh don't you love them D's?
When they spin, you freeze
Engine souped up, paint clean
Fifties, amps, six by nines and thangs
Comin down the block, let my sub straight bang
Like, "f** the po-po's, I'm not turnin it down"
I love to floss as I toss up a fifth of that Crown
Bank corner after corners
Watchin all the ho's smile
[Hook 3.5X]