Coolio

Do sada su postavljene ove pesme:

1. Gangsta's paradise
2. Get up get down
3. Geto Highlites
4. Is This Me
5. Kinda High Kinda Drunk

What you gonna play now
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.

Every geto got a different name, but they all the same
So Coolio loco gonna put you up on game
We got homies who sell straps
Homies who sell crack
Homies who sell the bomb chronic sacks thats a fact
Cause, you from the neighborhood niggas love
Pimps, players, suckers, hoes, forty thieves, ganstas, and thugs
To unwrap the strap before you know what
The loudmouth one loced up in front of the icecream truck
And broke all of the sills where the big G's live
The little homie be gettin' out on account
This time he might get stuck attempted
One eight seven and he's a minor with pride
So the DA want him tried as an adult
The big homey just had a son no joking
I think his baby's mom is smoking cause she always broke
And the young girls is dressing more and more sleazy
And everybody and their momma talking bout OJ defense

To the hoochies in the Hondas and Sentras
Young niggas fightin' their case with public defenders
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the niggas who smokin' indo chocolate tired of stress
Niggas who got warrants out for their arrest
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites

Slap boxin' with all the young hoochies watchin'
Dead cats in the street playing craps
Niggas catchin dice with they feet
Think they got the funk that one fool got stoked out
Cos he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1 now
One time his d jacked a nigga and old bitch
Liscence and registration
"All I got is a drivers permit"
Niggas can't have shit we got dogs that rip but don't even trip
Welcome to Southern California
Liquor stores and churches on every other corner
Your little brother plays pop warner
Darks raided the dope spot
Eight year old kid got shot cos they mistook his BB gun for a glok
And I ain't forgot about the homey Lano
He got killed by a sucker way back in the eighties oh
I heard the homies mighties is ballin' out of state
He got himself off unemployment checks in Section 8

Hey the homiez kickin' it real
Yeh I hear what he's sayin' loc
Sometimes it's just like that in the hood
Yeh don't nothin' change of the game but the name
That's right you know that's right

To the young hustlers that's trying to stack that knot up
The house parties that's gonna always get shot up
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the negros real to stop the violence
All the niggers who loced up during the L.A. riots
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites

The nigger with all 16 switches sitting ODs
Who got jacked he tried to pull out his gat
Pulling sex in through his back
Now his momma ain't all black
And niggas is going to the barber to get a fade
They carried their dead homey to his grave
Pour out a little liquor
Homegirl down the street with the green eyes and big titties is getting
thicker
Neighborhood clubs beat him up and crackheads be selling tvs and vcrs
For forty bucks so what's up
Yesterday the homey commited a bank caper
Saw the chase on the news and read the story in today's paper
His little girl's just now taking training wheels off her bike
While her daddy's got twenty-five to life at Fort Strike
The little homey just tripped and stripped
Because he didn't realize that the joint was dipped
That's right
OG's joining the nation and it's all good
Big G's is retaliating cause they enemies are crossed out the hood

Crackhead momma's smoking whole accounting checks
Dopedealers who serve liquor pieces for sex
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Young niggas going to school to be a doctor
Late night sounds of gunshots and helicopters
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites

To all the motherfuckers who think their shit don't stank
Rollin D.B.s and then appear for robbing banks
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
This is just a little something for a nigga
That's still gonna be a nigga if he don't get no bigger
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites

Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.

Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.

to fade...

Verse One: Malika
Steppin up out the shadows I comes equipped to wreck
Hold up just a sec Coolio I'm on deck (Malika)
Yes the diction is on point
Causin, friction when I flex up the jaw or hit the joint
That can actually give a blood mob like Gotti
Like the body cool, keep the scrap for the naughty
Niggie trippin why you scheme so don't step up with no bullshit
See that there it's clip for this stickup on the hip
Peep the correct way to get your pimp on
Let me hit the bong oh and my mind's quite strong
Wreck it nice and proper if it's on I'm finsta to stop her
If I'm swingin for the knockout, best believe I'm fit to drop her
Ninety-five's on pocket, representin I keep stompin
Throw up my fists just like this when I'm mobbin

Verse Two: Shorty

I killed the last, killed the ass, with my ninety-five drive
I'm deep like d-cell with my Crimson Tide, nigga
Like Chaka Khan, I tell you something good
I'm Hi-C like Spike Lee with a Tale From the Hood
You need it, I'll feed it, baby check the size
Have you Goin Down like Mary J. Blige
When it's popping like this, you can't be a coward
Shorty freaks fuckin beats like Adina Howard
My squad, is hard, with players, and hustlers
No toleration, for fakers and busters
Fuckin with me with all honesty
You get bombed rap songs coming constantly
Bumpin G-15's, Westside scene
Killin the competition, while making a fuckin green
So ring, around the rosie, and mosey to the Rosie
And I want you to know G

Chorus:

We bust and cuss and kick up dust
Don't none of y'all niggaz want to fuck with us
So what's the time? It's time to get paid
Why you bust your rhyme? Cause I got skills

We bust and cuss and kick up dust
Don't none of y'all niggaz want to fuck with us
So what's the time? It's time to get paid
Why you bust your rhyme? Cause that's how I bail

Verse Three: Leek Ratt (of 40 Thevz)

Watch me swallow this nickel and shit five pennies
I'm the loc'est of them all though the rat is kinda skinny
How many linny and squidgy think they can see me?
I'm from Compton where even in the summer niggaz wear beanies
Bustin lyrics sharper than razor blades catch it from head to toe
if you're shocked, then amazed, when you see me at my stage show
For my stage show beat em up
40 Thevz gettin busy rockin coast to coast
Dogs the most rap the hoes then rocks em up
Givin it up for hip-hop vicitims how should I drop em and then pop em
for poppin like to get what I got, and I ain't got a whole lot of nuthin
cuz I been ruffin and scuffin so give it up when I'm bustin or get to duckin
cuz I ain't given em nuthin
Fools can't get none, so fuck em!

Verse Four: PS

Let me rock the motherfuckin mic
Smoke a whole stick of dynamite, then fight all night
I got jabs like a welterweight champion
The pocket-pincher purse-snatcher pistol-packin
quick to get it crackin
Went from jackin to rappin to runnin with a pack of mad men
Pull a trick out my sleeve like Aladdin
Some fool tried to play me for a punk I had to have him like
lunch or dinner, he's just a beginner
Fuckin with a winner, number one contender top dog
Head nigga in charge runnin with a group of hogs
40 Thevz, MAAD Circle, Cat, and Crowbar
Best to put your daughterWack ass rappers get tossed upTrying to come in here with that garbageMy crew see the dopest and the hardest
So clear the path or get your punk ass Bogart-ed

Chorus 1/2

Verse Five: Ras Kass

I peep game and get recognized, biting on the hard liquor
toothpick and beedy-dyin
Bitch you got dealt, peeled your cap the other way
like a reversible Louis-Vitton Gucci belt
And ain't nothin crackin
For them niggaz steppin up with the funk I'm packin Tinactin
Cuz I be earnin stripes in tight bunches
All the homies carry nines I carry rhymes with sucker punches
What? Tootsie, my knees don't bend
Just like that actor Hoffman I be Dustin off men often
Jay-walking over your coffin with an eleven shot loss and
jaw wrecked that Osten won't soften you're lost and
see arson, to exterminate the flyest nigga like Orkin
Stalkin lofts men to New York and in between
so take caution, leave the flossin for dental hygeine
Mental plus my gene equals nasty young bastard
The raps be lung mastered takin vinyl virginity
Coincidentally I run shit like Walter Payton
Niggaz player hatin cause I spoke like a Dayton
I hit the face like Ron Carter at the corner when
C and B came strollin
Blowin niggaz up like when Mookie's stupid ass got caught smokin
Figure, your stigma is lack of enigma
So bitch-ass niggaz better step, like the Delta Sigma Thetas

Verse Six: Coolio

We don't give a fuck, fools better duck
39 deep in the back of Wino's truck
Like robbin in the paint, fool think I ain't?
Your crew is on stank, that's why I'm pullin rank
I rev like a motor float ON like a boat to
kick a style like Tical from here to North Dakota
The ambassador of funk with amps in the trunk
And when it's time to rock a mic I won't be no punk
I bring death to the evil and power to the people
My name ain't Steve Miller but I Fly Like an Eagle
Don't play me for a chump, I get around like Gump
And I, got more con in my verse than Chuck
And you don't want no motherfuckin problems here
Cuz I can round up a posse like Paul Revere
Your whole crew'll get took out, turned out, shook out
Burned up like a cookout, so fools better look out

Verse Seven: WC

Fresh out the penalty box
Sportin a stockin cap, cut off dickies, and some high-top striped socks
The freestyle finatic pyschosomatic back at it causin static
with lyrics still as tight as a straight jacket
The last in line but one of the first to get wit cha
bringin more terror to MC's than a Michigan militia
Click click boom, nigga fuck your crew
It's the chanky hip-hopper, takin over pissin in your stage monitor
socket you think that you can fuck with mine in your wildest dreams
You best to wake up and apoligize
Niggaz penetentiary yearn me cuz I, burn like Parker
but anyway, half of y'all couldn't see me with a pair of Blu Blockers
The lyrical night stalker stalkin at night in a pair of creased Khakis
Chuck Taylors, my pistol grip tight
Dub-C, that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle
Ay man! Ay ay.
What's up Wino?
Uh like loc, it's like late, let's get the fuck up out of here
Are we out?
Yeah yeah fuck it
Fuck it, MAAD Circle bitch!

Yeah 1996
Coolio with the flow
Rated R superstar
LV that's right

Mossberg Smith & Wesson
Forty-five let me tell you how I learned my lesson
House party in the hood at some niggas I don't know
But I had to go they had a house full of hos
I stepped into that party with my nigga high off that head
The hos is looking good so we try to make a friend for night
Let's get it right let's get it straight
But now these punkass niggas in the party want to play a hate
I'd bust a cap to save a rat so what's up with that
It's 1996 so these bustas get no kinda of doubt
Like American Express here we go again
I never leave home without it so don't even think about it
Just let me leave and I won't have to make you bleed
But if you make an offensive move then I'm gonna have to show a groove
Back up off let's keep it soft
Don't make me have to show you who these 16 bosses be

This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside
This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside

Way back in the days we dudes don't forget a name
Now everybody wants the fame but things change ain't the same
All these sucker set-trippin killin for no reason
That's why I never leave the house without my nina
I love my baby carry my baby whereever I go
For these suckers get in a twist they say I beat their pimpin
Stop wishin you was in my shoes
And learn to be yourself stop acting like somebody else
It's ninety-six and most of the homeys thinking of six feet
The six I found out if you wear partners where the friends go
Every week you don't see me I gotta put at work
I guess the shit don't stop till my gaskets drop
Stop hating my life and get your own
Be true to this game or this game will do you cold
Everywhere I go I got my back
I hate to do my all black but I must stay strapped

This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside
This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside

No no oooo I can't escape this life

I been trying to live in piece but these fools won't cease
They insist with their bullshit so I got a full clip
Chitty-chitty bang-bang doin it's a new thing
One shot from a Jake .38 can make your brain ache
I'm the kinda nigga that don't believe in frontin'
But if you run up on me trippin you best believe I'm dumpin'
I got bills to pay and kids to raise
And a whole generation of lost niggas to save
So I ain't got time for that yip yap
If you start some static I'm gonna have to blow your mind back
Believe that nigga daisy if you do it's true
Fuck with Coo you get done that's how we do it to it
Don't start no shit and it won't be none son
But if you do I'm going for my gun
Like Doc Holliday a nigga ain't scary
So if you want to trip then I'll be your huckleberry

This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside
This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside

This really ain't me no more
These streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside
This really really really ain't me
But the streets won't let me go
I can't escape this life
That they got me trapped inside

Got kinda high and uhh kinda drunk
Beer drinkin, beer-beer drinkin, eight ball

Chorus: repeat 4X

Got kinda high and uhh kinda drunk
Beer drinkin, beer-beer drinkin, eight ball

Verse One:

I'm sittin' at the bar with a hundred dollar bill
The homies is runnin' late so I got some time to kill
I'm peepin' out this freak in the booth in the corner
I think I seen her rollin a Noble, nosin under and moanin
Two hookers walked in and they was lookin' for a vic
But they, kept on passin' me by coz they can recognize a trick
Twenty minutes later and two double shots of yak
I take a look up at the clock, now where the FUCK the homies at
I feel my pagers on my hipbone, who could it be
Cuz I done talked to everybody that I was 'sposed to see
Hahaa! Now I know, the story is told
And I don't even call 'em back cuz they don't know the homie cold
I recieved a page my niggers from the phone in the back
I got a wink from a fine ass sista dressed in black
Another double shout of yak and now the room is spinnin'
But that's only the beginning, god damn!

Chorus

Verse Two:

I take a walk out to the front to get myself some air and
see if I see the homies, but they still ain't there
There's a fool outside drunk and he want to get into it
I was strapped I coulda killed him, but I didn't do it
I opted for the walk-away, watch the busta talk away
So mister policeman, you can put your chalk away
I mobb back in the club, and, kick it at my table
Cause, niggaz be acting stupid, and stupid shit is fatal
The homies is hella late, and now I'm startin' to think
Homegirl that gave me the wink from earlier just bought me a drink
She's sittin' at a stool at the other side of the bar
Doing tricks with her tounge and a cherry like a porno star
The club is gettin' packed and the party is jumpin
Another double shot of yak and I'm on the dancefloor bumpin'
She's licking in my ear and, now I'm feeling faded
It's 11:35 and the homies still ain't made it

Chorus

Verse Three:

Now I'm on the dance floor with baby and, shit is gettin' hectic
The big homey done erected, damn I've been affected
By the funk in the boom and the booty in the room
This ain't the Commodores but this Brick House got me on zoom
Now I'm mackin and struttin and asking baby wassup
My name ain't Everlast, but I can still make you jump
let's, hope in the Q and go somewhere and kick it like some Trojans
We can do a little drinkin, and do a little smoking
When all of a sudden I start sweatin', my stomach starts bubblin'
I hear earl coming, I think I'm in trouble *vomit sounds*
Ahh shit, I got baby on her titties
I guess there go my chances of gettin with her kitty
I turn around and stumble away and there go the homies with
long ass trenchcoats on, laughing, sippin on 40's
Now I'm in the back of my own car curled up like a punk
Cuz I got too high and uhh, got too drunk

Chorus

[Big throw up S-P-L-A-S-H]
SHIT!