Back to the 8-Ball

Yo, check the mic, let's drop it old school, With a funky beat to make the whole block cool. Bored as heck, man, I'm itchin' to thrill, So I rolled to the spot where my crew just chills.

The homies out there, stackin' that green, Cruisin' up smooth in my '64, clean. They passed me a 40, I started to sip, Then the 8-ball hit, yo, my breath's takin' trips.

Headed to scoop my girl, let's rock that groove, Before I bounced, hit the Bacardi, smooth move. Rolled to her crib, tryna get her to roll, But this chick popped off, man, she lost control.

Said some dumb stuff, couldn't believe my ears, Grabbed her nappy weave, brought her down to tears. She kept talkin' smack, yo, what's the deal? Flipped it pimp-style, gave her somethin' to feel.

Her pops jumped up, tryna act all tough, Landed a right cross, laid him out, that's enough. 'Cause the boys in the hood, we stay real hard, Talk that trash, we'll pull your card.

Livin' life legit, that's the only way I spit, Don't quote me, fool, 'cause I ain't said nothin' yet. Mic drop, yo, that's the funky rap flow, Old school vibes, now let's keep it low.