Chorus:
I got one mo switch I can hit
I got one mo bullet in my clip

I got one mo drink I can steal
I got one mo sack I can twist


Verse 1, Coolio:
I wear a "S" on my chest
I prefer my vest

And if the chronic run out, loc, pass the stress
Cause all I wanna do is just roll my things
Turn up the alphine and let the woofers bang bang

To the boogie say up jump the boogie
He was tryin' to get a grip on my cookies
I shook thee

I coulda took him, but he wadn't even worth a bullet
I had my finger on the trigger, but I couldn't pull it
From defamation to desimation

Every day is like summer vacation
A ^!$$% couldn't wait for somethin good to put in yo Kenwood
Turn it up to twenty-one, and bop it in your hood

I'm a eastside ^!$$% (^!$$%)
Gotta have sprilla (Sprilla)
Do or die, low down, real life killa (Killa)

They comin' through the hold on tip toe
You swear, so
I gotta get your grip, hoe


Chorus


Verse 2, 40 Thevz (Lek Ratt, P.S.):
Yes, yes, y'all (Yes y'all)
40 Thevz in the house, with a fifth y'all (Fifth y'all)

Better recognize a tennis shoe pimp, y'all (Pimp y'all)
When I'm rollin' through your hood in my six, ohhhh, that be you
When our four colors rock, front and $$# out

All the riders shake and smile when they see me hit the block
Your sounds ain't beatin
So your girls ain't freakin

Watch your fly, got the whole post meetin
Hit 'em in their eyes
And go suicides

Later, pump them on the ground just to show 'em what it's like
To hit the mic for a licken
Hell no, I ain't trippin

Cause I kinda like pimpin
Bein' freer than a pigeon
Got your (*##$ down in positions

All kinda ways
40 Thevz pimpin these suckas till they graze
So, come with these weak flows if you must

But I got a hundred and twenty-one mo rounds I can bust

Chorus


Verse 3, Coolio:
Put the pep in yo step and the glide in your stride

Like Clyde
Drexler, this is eastside
Westa, recognize the routine

Mo jackers and packers than the Super Bowl ring team
So, why you tellin me to sell a key of yayo
That's how you give a fellow need like Jayo

We lay low
All up in the cut
If it's suicide then roll the bustas up

And I'ma hit 'em up like uppercut
Better shuffle yo feet like double dutch
Now the party didn't start til I walked in

And it probably wont end til I sip Hen
But in the meantime
And in between time

Better tuck in your chin
And learn to take your lumps and grin
You know you can't wait cause I'ma stay on one

One switch, one sack, one sip, but I ain't done

Chorus, Repeat 4X