Common - Orange Pineapple Juice Lyrics
Hand me a little bit of umm, orange pineapple juiceIma sip on it, check it outI got a rhyme, you got a rhymeBut my rhyme is better than yours(repeat 2x)U-a-c, they get they ps andNo i.d., be gettin his ps andThe late show, they get they ps andProfessanots, they get they ps andPeep the maneuver, how bout the heim-lichI rhyme sick and you can get the duck, coonIm the shit, youre shit out of luck, toughIm the act to follow, housing kids like ronaldMac like donald goines, flows I change like coinsChoyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng, choyoyoyoyyyyyngI draw a crowd like blood with the pint of techniqueAnd everybody there be like, yeah!Cause caint near a nig datll say whoomp, there it isIm like a mom on section 8, over-bearing kidsShit they be like, com-mon! thats my muh*****a trueYouse a hamburger, ima fudruckerAskin me to lettuce ketchup, knowin you cant cut the mustardSo wheres the beef, jerky?Im as worthy as james, not that good with namesBut I do remember your face from someplace this is one tasteOf chicago, we got mo many mo many mo many mo flavorsDont just come to me, go ask thy neighbor-im-a-hood takin niggazUnderOn the tundra, cause theyre plain, theyre plain (fantasy island)Im on a plateau that is fat soIts just a fan-tasy, for the fans to seeHow I land, Im grand like a finaleIm goin back to cali (why? ) cause cali got *****es check itAiyyo dart this is a sicknessDee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da, ah-eh-da-daDee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da, dee-da-daSouth side, rock on andThe west side, we gotta rock on andHey yo chicago, we gotta rock on andThe east coast, you gotta rock on andThe west coast, you gotta rock on andAh down south, you gotta rock on andCheck it... now you can go!Mister ***** emcee, just get on goneGet on gone, you ***** mc!Steppin to me, with them dirty feet youll get defeatedLike kunta kinte, Im kin to, align crewMy great, great, grandpap done been throughSo much its in my hemoglobin to be a ill niggaSo I figure like a father... that ima turn this mutha outBut common you aint hittin in new yorkI dont know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall propsSome cats think Im six feet Im so deepSome stunts be thinkin Im six-fo, my shit be hittin like switches*****es, ask, why my, britches, sagI ask the *****es, why your titties saggin?Put your nipple to the bottle I bust rhymes like breastsesI can get down, d-d-d-down like pessimistRing the alarm, I got charm like a neck-a-laceTell me true statues had to move they neck to thisDidnt you, didnt you... and it, and it, and itAnd it dont stop, bust itGotta crew ya better tell em --> keith murray
