Rugged Monk - Rollin' lyrics

[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]