Lyrics:

Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James

Dickie shorts, Lincoln's clean
Leanin', checking out the scene
Gangsta boys, Bigga's lit
Ridin' out, talkin' shit (Damn)
Nigga, where you wanna go?
You know the club don't close 'til four
Let's party 'til we can't no more (Damn)
Watch out, here come the folk—'Damn...'
Oh, Lord


As the plot thickens, it gives me the dickens, reminiscent of Charles
A lil' discotheque, nestled in the ghettos of Niggaville, USA
Via Atlanta, Georgia
A lil' spot where young men and young women
Go to experience they first little taste of the night life
Me? Well, I've never been there
Well, perhaps, once, but I was...
So engulfed in the Ol' E, I never made it to the door
You speak of 'hardcore'
While the DJ sweatin' out all the problems and troubles of the day
While this fine, bow-legged girl – fine as all outdoors 
Lulls lukewarm lullabies in your left ear
Competing with 'Set It Off' in the right
But it all blends perfectly, if you let the liquor tell it
'Hey, hey—look, baby, they playin' our song!'
And the crowd goes wild, as if Holyfield has just won the fight
But, in actuality, it's only about 3 a.m
And three niggas just done got hauled off in the ambulance – sliced up
Two niggas done started busting—'Wham! Wham!'
And one nigga done took his shirt off, talking 'bout –
'Now, who else wanna fuck with Hollywood Court?'
It's just my interpretation–of the situation

Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James
Damn, damn, damn, James
Yes! When I first met my SpottieOttieDopalicious angel
I can remember that damn thing like yesterday
The way she moved reminded me of a
Brown stallion horse with skates on, you know?
Smooth, like a hot comb on nappy-ass hair
I walked up on her and was almost paralyzed
Her neck was smelling sweeter than a plate of yams, with extra syrup
Eyes beaming like four karats apiece, just blindin' a nigga
Felt like I chiefed a whole O of that Presidential
My heart was beating so damn fast
Never knowing, this moment would bring another life into this world
Funny how shit come together sometimes, you dig?
One moment, you frequent the booty clubs...
And the next four years –
You and somebody's daughter raisin' y'all own young'n
Now, that's a beautiful thang
That's if–
You're on top of your game
And man enough to handle real-life situations, that is
Can't gamble feeding a baby on that dope money
Might not always be sufficient
But the United Parcel Service and the people at the post office
Didn't call you back, because you had cloudy piss
So now, you back in the trap –
Just that... trapped. 
Go on and marinate on that for a minute

Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja
Da, da, da, Ja, Ja, Ja