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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Westside Connection
Lyrics:
Tell ya people that I'm comin by (Yeah yeah) Got that shit that'll get ya high (Holla at a pimp) Talkin shit cause I'm off Tonight, and you really wanna feel alright
Cook sometin' serve sometin' Like George Girv sometin' Fingaroll Michael Irv sometin' Smoke sometin', cause it's the holidaze Get ya dolla daze, pop a colla plaze I'm come through wit the brand new light blue ready to eat n' shit Niggas can't compete my shit Got the whole family on the law So mines be jealous Like that nigga Marcellous But don't get overzealous And try to ball wit a nigga who play double headas cause I'll pull out the double wettas Cock em' back and treat you like you neva met us So this year fill ya heart wit' cheer or disappear nigga Holla if ya clear nigga, it's Ice Cube you can call me tha Grinch I got your Christmas list But I ain't buyin' you shit
Tell ya people that I'm comin by (yeah yeah) Got that shit that'll get ya high (I'm on my way) Talkin shit cause I'm off Tonight, and you really wanna feel alright I wanna know what you gonna do for the holidays? (You know, I'm comin' through for the holidays) What you gonna do for the holidays? (I'm comin' through to scoop you for the holidays)
Westside Connect Gang-Ga-Gang Connect Gang-Ga-Gang Connect Gang-Ga-Gang
Ba boom guess who stepped in the room Off the liquor loc C-walkin' under the missteltoe Shoppin' cookies, bag full of Goodies Smokin' out your city with this blue berry sticky icky WC off the hinges my witness And them high switchez for a Ghetto fucking Christmas Hit the block flossin' I got's to rap Three wheelin' with the Konjak on my bud nyya Gangsta Gangsta got 'em lookin' my way Cause I got the new 'West Class' in the drive-way Bendin' the corner, put it up on ya Like threelik swing swing, bling bling Mad Hoggin, Bouncin, Sippin' Beer Blindin' niggas wit' the carrots in my ear Another currin' out the gate Stack them big heads Dub tryin get me 'tween some scared nyya
Holla at a pimp, holla at a pimp
It's that time of year I got a Sack of Scrizzla And minks for the wifey, sable and chinchilla I know my momma cooked I can hardly wait I'm hungry so when I come through hand me a plate Or that down hun southern cook connect jam Now easy on the ham, But heavy on the candy jam I see you lookin' at me bugged out (No Doubt) Pull up in a bentley straight Thugged out Heavy metal, extreme ghetto and bugs And only Converse on my pedal cause all I wear is chucks While I'm, Greasin' G all down on my drawers And you know I’m flamed up like Santa Claus I grind, And do what I do to make a not And the Cali weather ain't the only thing that's hot Chicken Hawkin', I stay away from guys that snitchin And though it's sunny I'm still around hoes cause I'm pitchin
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