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Ghetto Fabulous lyrics
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Once again, we take over cash Ras kass, dr. dre and mack 10 connected. We ghetto fabulous baby. The best food, drink and pussy that money can buy. Verse one: ras kass Every day of my life is off the ringer That’s guaranteed, like a fistfight on jerry springer I got the hottest flow to hit the street since lava So holla, we all hustle for dollar dollars From sac to houston, new orleans to d.c. We drinkin’ v-s-o-p (? ) the beats beep Bangin, catch me with a dimepiece next to me My body all over your body like lsg Neighborhood celeb with the keys to my city like the mayor Rookies askin us how to be a playa Get in where you fit in, and never get your ghetto pass revoked No matter how much money you make Stay true to the game loc, guest list terror clothes In jeans and tennis shoes, breakin your strict dress codes Spit lyrical bricks, thirteen deep So I can be richer than master p sellin ’ghetto d’ Chorus: mack 10 We ghetto, fabulous Money make the world go round so let’s handle this Ghetto, fabulous Broadcastin live from los angeles We ghetto, fabulous Money make the world go round so let’s handle this Ghetto, fabulous Broadcastin live from los angeles Verse two: dr. dre You ain’t heard of me, you ain’t listenin hard enough Started in compton servin from a ice cream truck Now ten years later whippin a custom navigator Steppin on your toes playa, stuffin up your alligators I’m ghetto, like newport cigarettes, feel me Boom bap and slap that ass silly This is for the full time students slash part time strippers And young niggaz, clockin at least five figures Some of us pro atheletes, some of us rap over fat beats Some of us hustle in the streets Twenty deep in club nikki’s so you know we gots to mingle Trickin’ (? ) off a pocket full of singles, huh And it’s all bueno, musical mafia like frank sinatra Pop a thirteen shot glock to make you go see the doctor Ain’t nuttin nice >from hood to hood, love livin the lavish life (chorus) Verse three: ras kass Nigga stu-b-doo in the gs, three ooh ooh Playin number two tekken, zero to sixty In six point seven seconds *tires screech* hangin out the window Actin up, chickenheads like you doin fo’ months! Flexin the rolex oyster perpetual, thirty-five diamonds Across the face, still eatin out foam cups and paper plates We don’t call it playa hatin in the nine-eight, it’s p.i. That’s pass intereference, automatic first down Want juice like tupac, then obey your thirst clown Be in the pj’s in ny, rockin dk Mix ej with oj, ok, we say L.a. niggaz got crazy came Like john elway got a superbowl ring The homies down for whatever, we stack the chedda Swiss bank accounts, and mo’ mozzarella fella (chorus) Outro: Ugh! and it don’t stop! Haha, westside riders baby, haha! *fade out*  More Ras Kass Song Lyrics
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