Rollin`

[Doc Doom]<br>Oh how I love my a hundred spokes<br>Flossin and shit, California<br>Flossin on them gold ones<br>Black Knights<br>Old ones, I sold them<br>Sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones<br>The chrome was the old ones, I sold them<br><br>Can I get a drum roll please for my gold D`s?<br>Hundred spoke Daytonas, wish we all could be California<br>Smokin bank in the corners in a black six-deuce<br>Hittin switches, dippin, switchin on that ackrite juice<br>Act like you, wan` try and take my D`s<br>Watch how fast these slugs in this thang gon` leave<br>Watch how many holes in ya body it leaves<br>Watch how much pints of blood you bleed<br>May the fake thugs retreat, pop up barkin the heat<br>Caravanin nine-to-ten cars deep<br>Down the `shaw where Knights is known to breakin laws<br>And if a bitch is ridin with me she`s takin it off<br>Now get off ya job, if not bitch I`m layin you off<br>Cuz I guess the last nigga that you fucked with was soft<br>That ain`t me, it cost just to floss with me<br>And how I love my a hundred spoke D`s<br><br>[Chorus 3.5X: Doc Doom]<br>Rollin, sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones<br>The chrome was the old ones, I sold them<br><br>[RZA]<br>Yo<br>Up in a black bourbon tank labelled GMC<br>Smokin on a Newport long and PCP<br>Gat tucked in, easy pass, I`m low duckin<br>Dimepiece bird on the side I`m finger-fuckin<br>Bouncin off this deuce-deuces, fat like Polo gooses<br>Eighteen-inch woofers movin studio acoustics<br>Rim tri-star, chrome on my side-bar<br>Don`t hate crab cuz I caught ya bitch eye par<br>Platinum grill, re-enforced solid steel<br>Superstar engine, force of an eighteen wheel<br>That`ll crash through brick walls, smash intersections<br>Move through ya city escorted with police protection<br>Heated polished seats with back massages<br>You gotta know how to roll in more like Kenny Rogers<br>Tinted glass, PS2 plus Dreamcast<br>Smoke screens, blindin high blasts<br>GPS satellite navigation<br>Automatic lock doors drop jackers to the station<br>You got beef you get fed to Doc Doom<br>Goon, you can`t fuck with Wu Killa Bee Clan platoon<br>I might get Holocaust to come and cough on you<br>My nigga Crisis might love to let one off on you<br>Or Rugged Monk rolls up another blunt<br>The great Digi goes and lures out another cunt<br>Cuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos<br>Ain`t got no money or love for you funny fools<br>Cuz I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos<br>Sippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools<br><br>[Monk]<br>I`m from the land of chaos where niggaz get shot for trippin<br>I caught a fool slippin on some D`s, now I`m steady dippin<br>Cruisin, movin up the block cuz I`m the shit<br>Stick dick to hoodrats, make gangsta hits<br>I baptize my sticks, ice skate on seventeens<br>On the phone with five-oh, don`t you love them D`s?<br>While they spin, you freeze in ya souped up paint clean<br>Fifties, amps, six by nines and thangs<br>Comin down the block, let my sub straight bang<br>Like, "Fuck the po-po`s, I`m not turnin it down"<br>I love to floss as I toss up a fifth of that Crown<br>Bank corner after corners, watch all the hoes smile<br><br>[Chorus 3.5X]