The Loc Is On His Own

It's the Locc I let the funk boom like thunder

Grew up funk like Davis now I got braids like Stevie Wonder

Get my sag on my momma get her dag on

Freeze my khaki's up and I'm gone

You can stare all day but just don't step

on my Blue Suede shoes to get here I pay dues

BRRAOW BRAOW that's how my toolie sound

when I'm drinkin Hen with my rhymes straight blowin in the wind

And busters can't fade the Jayo Felony

T-Funk from the family, smoke or dip with me

Bullet Locc's dedicated, faded, I straight made it

And drinkin Blue Note, on the yard they celebrated

I'm a Y-C, I guess that's why the one-time is followin me

But I'm a MC, I laugh because there swallowin me

But I just shake my head and say "Damn!" (Ha ha)

Cos I'm just goin to the sto', to get some zoom zoom zoom and wam wams

Chorus:

You go do your thang yo, and I'ma do my thang

You go do your thang yo, and I'ma do my thang

You go do your thang yo, and I'ma do my thang

You go do your thang yo, and everythang gon' be everythang

I wanna be like Donald Trump, not Willie Lump-Lump

I put that on my set that I make everybody jump

Fool don't move until my ride hit the flo', word!

Boom booms in my rag '6-4

That's how we roll, no time for the ying yang

Dogs in my hood still bumpin fo' thangs

It's me, the B-U-double L-E-T, better known as Felony

T-shirt and khakis that's how we're bailin, C/see

And I'm just tryin to keep my sanity

Make some of them ends, get a biz and help my family

Right, and just to let you know I don't care

I'm still gon' get my sag on, there it is there

You can't see me fool, I'm locced out

Baseheads on the corner, bag and smoked out

Askin for a gang of change and I say "Damn!"

All this drama, to get some zoom zooms and wam wams

Chorus (x2)

French braids and Stockton cap wit my hat cocked back

Now I'ma lean into the side like Goldie the Mack

Everybody that's incarcerated, hold your head high

Hope that you see another sunny blue sky

Females'll leave you stranded and I'ma let you know

She's made cos the Soul Glo won't make her hair grow

Block on the phone, and ain't nobody home

Her and some greasy fat fool rollin in the Brougham

But you know how that go, so yo, toss em up high

Cos in the South Beach streets it's do or die

Wave em to the Eastside, yeah wave em to the West

comin up with the bomb, no stress

Guess and Master Jay makin funk tracks

So to the ol' school, I'ma bring the punks back

I listen to the flow and I just say "Damn!"

As I'm rollin thru the hood, to get some zoom zooms and wam wams

Chorus (x2)