Wednesday, September 22, 2010

“Ridin’” Verse I

Grindin to see if they can see me lean
I’m tint so it ain’t easy to be seen
Police see me ride by, they can see these gleam
And my shine on the deck and the TV screen
I’m flaunting my wealth in my customized automobile
(And looking to purchase some narcotics 
While my curb finders scrape against nearby curbs),
To see if the policemen can see me up to such theatrics.
I’ve had my windows tinted so I’m difficult to see as I drive about.
When policemen watch me drive by, they’re able to see
My radiant wheel rims, jewelry, and metal tooth decorations.
My automobile shimmers, as does the television screen within my steering wheel.
Ridin with a new chick, she like, “¡Hola!”
Next to the Playstation controller is a full clip in my pistola
Send a jacker into a coma
Girl, you ain’t know, I’m crazy like Krayzie Bone
Just tryin to bone, ain’t tryin to have no babies
Ride clean as hell so I pull in ladies
Law’s on patrol and you know they hate me
I’m on this outing with a fresh dame who says, “¡Hola!
Next to my Sony Playstation-brand game controller 
Is a pistol clip fully loaded with ammunition,
Which I may use to send a thief into a state of prolonged unconsciousness.
Damsel, you aren’t aware of what I’m capable.
I’m mentally unstable like my cohort Anthony “Krayzie Bone” Henderson!
I’m merely attempting to intercourse you , though I do not wish to impregnate you.
My automobile is free of illegal elements, so I attract females of my peerage.
The law is actively on patrol and I’m certain you’re aware of how they despise me.
Music turned all the way up until the maximum
I got speakers, some niggas tryin to jack for some
But we packin somethin and what we have for ’em
Will have a nigga locked up in the maximum
Security cell, I’m grippin oak
Music loud and I’m tippin slow
Twins steady, twistin like, “Hit this dough”
Police pull up right behind and it’s in his throat
My music is turned up all the way to the maximum volume.
I have formidable electroacoustic transducers,
Which many African-American males have been attempting to pilfer from me.
However, my familiars and I have weapons to use on them
That, if used, would certify our place in a maximum-security prison cell!
I have a wood-grain grip on my steering wheel.
My music is, again, very loud, and I’m lowering my car to one side via hydraulics.
My 22-inch rims are rolling steadily. I’m driving as if to say “Notice my affluence!”
A policeman pulls up right behind me, his Adam’s apple bobbing in fear!
My window’s down, gotta stop pollution
CDs change, niggas like, “Who is that producing?”
This the Play-N-Skillz when we out and cruisin
Got warrants in every city except Houston
But I still ain’t losin
My autocar’s window is rolled down so as to stop noise pollution.
I change the compact disc I’m listening to, and African-American men 
Ask, “Who is producing that music?”
Why, it’s Irving, Texas, hip-hop record production duo Play-N-Skillz, of course,
(The duo who produced this very track!)
Which my friends and I often listen to when we’re out for a drive.
I have warrants out for my arrest in every city except for Houston,
But I remain undefeated!

No comments:

Post a Comment