Songtext Urban legends Drunken Master

Urban legends

(feat. Bugsy, Redman, Ol' Dirty Bastard)

[Sample from 'Belly']
"Hey dog, there them fools go right there!"
"Yeah, they-they rollin' hard too- They-they slangin' real good
Real good"
"I might have to drop 'em
Might have to drop a dime on them niggas
Know-what-I'm-sayin'? I don't like that shit
I don't like that shit"

[Drunken Master]
"Throw it up
Throw it up, nigga
Wha-what-what?
Yo, y-yo, yo!"

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Drunken Mast' about to get my money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right

I'm comin' through in the clutch like my name was Jerry West
wit' a belly full of brew and on my hip I got the Smif-n-West
("What 'chu doin'?") Ballin' as I mash through these city streets
Still fifty niggaz deep, packin' heat! ("What 'chu ridin'?")
'99, chrome kitted Escalade ("What 'chu doin'?")
Gettin' paid, ready to blast you in your bald fade ("What you called?")
Urban legend, situation sticky
Fuck you niggas if you niggas ain't wit' me ("Where you goin'?")
To the bank then I'm headed to 'Lac ("Why?")
To blaze a sack wit' them niggas who got my back ("Who is that?")
Cheddar chasers, them B-T-T's ("And what they doin'?")
Makin' G's wit' they mind on they chedda cheese ("And what you got?")
Extra clips for them playa hatin' snitches ("Why they hatin'?")
'Cause Drunken Master's on the road to the riches ("What you gon' do?")
Rush they spot and give 'em two to the dome ("Why?")
'Cause Daddy's home, about to get my grind on

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right

[Bugsy]
You wanna bring the ruckus? Fuck it, then we can
If you's a G nigga, then I'm at least a hunded grand
Damn- That's a whole lot missin'
and what's this 'bout a competiton wit' all this bullshit you pissin'
in the ocean? Damn, your little ass really must be smokin'
Hopin' that I won't say that much and hit you wit' the camal clutch
Nah, what the fuck? I'm on some ill shit for real
and talkin' to me like that, nigga, 'll get your family killed
But you will probably squeel and say it was me who pulled the trigga
and I'll have to lie and blame it on one of your hoe-ass niggas, like
they was smokin' Swishers when I stepped on the scene- This
one nigga looked mean and stuck me up for all my green
And all I seen was you bust up wit' the gun
and all I did was run to the phone and call 9-1-1
And by the time I'm done, nigga, you be deep up in some shit
and I'll be somewhere, nigga, deep up in your bitch
So before you pick the wrong fat nigga to fuck wit',
you better call your clique up,
y'all niggas is plannin' some tough shit
Some mo' rough shit, some mo' thirty-eight snuff shit
But I'ma bust shit like 'Back the fuck up, you dumb bitch!'
Not one clique? You better be for real
That's like bein' blindfolded in the middle of a mine field
Now y'all chill and we can make it pop
Urban legends, nigga, holla at me when the album drops

[Drunken Master]
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right

[Redman]
Yo, yo, yo
Yo, stomp wit the big dogs! Sick dogs lurkin'
Doc Bradshaw behind ball plant and steel curtains
Denver Bronco fan, glock squirtin'
Brick city, steerin' wheel hurtin'
Prepare y'all fast cars for lane mergin'
Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana, cock block into gramma
Got cock in Atlanta,
rockin' P.P.P. Bandanas while we fuck 'em on camera
It be too late to plant bait for my clique to fall
We plant boobie-traps and pit-falls and thick fog
When I tee, L.A. rock- It's yours!
Websites couldnn't find a force wit' Macintosh
on John Walsh- America's Most,
aimin' for spots to put more than a tear in ya coat
I back more hoes than Coach- Thanksgivin', Doc,
the forty-second street float wit' most hip-hop folks
I'm unemployed wit' courderoy gloves
Through the voice di-rectly to chest, knock ya down like The Waterboy
Me and Meth-Tical, PLURAL!
We rob everything and set on mag ZER-O!
Mothafuckas feel me- Top of the line,
feel me- Knock the Soul Train off the track
and I'm milky like titties and Similac
when I ask you 'Bring it on back'!

[Drunken Master]
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right
Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,
world-wide, international, V.I.P.
Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night
Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right

[Redman]
"So don't test me and my man Drunken Master
Put one in your ass faster
And I'ma drop wit' my man
Brick City, 'cause we all kickin' ass 'til niggas' shitty
Yeah, Young Zee and everybody run, dog
Brick City, holdin' it down
Don't like it, get you some balls
And my man Chris Webber gettin' smoked the fuck out, FUCK Y'ALL!"

[Music stops to Ol' Dirty Bastard talking on a phone]
"Yo. Yo, check this shit out, man
It's the Dirt Dog, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Keepin' it real, man, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Dirty don't give a fuck about nobody, know-what-I'm-sayin'?
Only roll wit' REAL niggas, know-what-I'm-sayin'?
All them faggot-ass niggas that wanna keep playin' that shit,
keep playin' that song?!
Let me tell you somethin' 'bout my real nigga, the Drunken Master
Niggas get busy
Niggas get busy for one cause!
EVERYBODY ELSE CAN SUCK MY MOTHAFUCKIN' DICK!"