Ridin Shotgun Lyrics - Papoose

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(paul wall intro)
I go by the name of paul wall the peopleÂ`s champ
And iÂ`m pullinÂ` down with my partna papoose baby
They talkinÂ` boutÂ…

(paul wall)
Kick the door down weighed glock bag the money gimme all that you got
Than its back to the hood fo a all night flight tryin to slang a lick at the gamblers spot
All or nothin win or lose grind all day no time to snooze
Stack oÂ` cash one dolla at a time just earninÂ` stripes and payin my doÂ`s
5-9 5-8 south lee south bake lil e big mix my partna bowdy pour up the drank
Getcha eagle on flip a bird 16 deep can buy you a brick
Plus that clock go stone for stone gram for gram lick for lick
Ova night celebrity in the streets bust a move feet to feet
Cut the corner slide off in the wind and its back to the block for a meet n greet
WhereÂ`s the drank? whereÂ`s the dro? whereÂ`s the whip? whereÂ`s the blow?
Pop seal pour a foÂ` fire up the piff light n blow
IÂ`m comin straight from dat houston texas i got the tech whoÂ`s next wit plex?
I do yo xxx like a garbage fest iÂ`ll peal yo shell n snap yo neck
ItÂ`s paul wall no need to explain emerged from the game in a slab on swang
Sip the drank take it straight to the brain iÂ`m fuckinÂ` round with that drama king

(chorus) (paul wall & papoose)

IÂ`m on that 16 loop down in that houston baby
IÂ`m on atlantic ave. hip hop police hate me
IÂ`m posted up iÂ`m toasted up iÂ`m getting mine new york times
The clock is tickin time is money partna its goin down

(papoose)

You see folks hit you wit the poetry notes flow league low key o-gÂ`s dope
The coke freak dope feen off a ski slope talk to police nope
Yo homies no pito the homey keep toast turn ur ghostwriter to a holy ghost
Quick to pull a shank on the old ski coach you can hokie poke
I drink so much i cry liquor wipe my tears wit c notes i smoke so much weed i fart weed smoke
I wonder a the moment she spoke you know i like a woman with a mint coat n a deep throat
And ma i think your crazy if you donÂ`t deep throat you serve no purpose like a slow speed boat
Im sworn to the hood took the og oath the homies toast to the song p wrote (uh)
On this xxxx i donÂ`t need votes you Â`bout to getcha hood pass me voc
You canÂ`t afford this ice he broke4-5 xxxxx 4-5-6 c-low
I smoke brown like my name nino iÂ`m papoose underground king no
Kiss the bling-bling ho my ching-ching doÂ`or let tha ding-ding go like a sing-sing row (uh)
Why yaÂ`ll talk wheezy Â`fore i grip i pull out the toasta come back an kill em like piper sosa
Eat em like pondarosa touch em like tony toka push range rovaÂ`s wit shoulda holdsta this verse is ova.

(chorus)

IÂ`m on that 16 loop down in that houston baby
IÂ`m on atlantic ave. hip hop police hate me
IÂ`m posted up iÂ`m toasted up iÂ`m getting mine new york times
The clock is tickin time is money partna its goin down

(paul wall)

What it do itÂ`s paul wall the peopleÂ`s champ n dat boi papoose
My pockets fat like bruise bruise cause iÂ`m goinÂ` hangin round doÂ`ors spot like a noose
IÂ`m goinÂ` hard on tha block posted up like jermaine oÂ`neal
If you scared take yo xxx back home turn on tha tube n watch dr. phil
Watch n learn clock ??? no sleep just crash n burn
Paint tha slab weigh tha trunk bolted up than bounce n turn
On bay bridge wit tha undaground king shakin bike logs stayin afloat
ItÂ`s tha street sweepers an tha swishahouse paul wall papoose datÂ`s all she wrote.

(papoose)

Paul wall n papoose we ride her shortay in tha back wit a back lookin proper
Face like a model n a match wit da prada little time n she mine iÂ`m time her
Popped in tha night so i popped up beside her popped 2 bottles than i popped my colla
I didnÂ`t have a pen she gave me eye liner wrote her phone numba on a back of a dolla
She crumbled it up n put it in her xxxxxx shortay was a turnt out freak like madonna
Then i seen her friend lookin betta right behind her took my dolla back matta fact iÂ`m a holla!
You niggaÂ`s is imposters we eatin like we mobsters street sweepers n swishahouse you xxxxxx wit some monstaÂ`s.

(chorus x2)

IÂ`m on that 16 loop down in that houston baby
IÂ`m on atlantic ave. hip hop police hate me
IÂ`m posted up iÂ`m toasted up iÂ`m getting mine new york times
The clock is tickin time is money partna its goin down

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