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| 1. |
| 3:59 | 
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My mission: the commission of the dishin' out for facts
'cause when I'm dimin' my rhymin' never slacks, never lacks So get back to the basics and face it. The American dream ain't what it seems With lies they've laced it. Can't you taste it? See they baste it in an imitation butter. We've ate it and realized its not nature to mother Generic like no other, man, fuck big brotha! The Kottonmouth King klick. Are you blind or somethin'? Are you blind to the facts? You think that this system, That this society, sees any other color other than green? Well it's all slave-driven. The illusion of ownership in America Property is theft, that's how we livin' The bong tokin' alcoholics Gettin' bent every night is the thing we do Wakin' up every day in the afternoon. I crawl out the bed on the way to the shower Gotta hurry up I got a date in an hour. Call my boy X on the shower phone. "What's up, Saint? Man, I'm stoned alone By the way I got the freaks on point Call up the krew, hook it up. Lata." I hung up with X and gave my boys a holla. D-loc picked up said "What's up balla?" Just droppin' a dime and time about this party There'll be a lotta beer and some naughty hotties I'll call Bobby let him know the plan, And we'll bounce through in the nitrate van. We'll take a road trip, 40-sip on the way Oh yeah X commin' through with some freaks from the Bay Bong tokin' alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it, The bong tokin' alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack Legalize it! The bong tokin' alcoholics (repeat) We drank up a fifth and sparked a bowl Humble Gods on the radio bumpin' real low. I reach into the back and pull out the 64, I took it to the head like a motherfuckin' pro Yo, that drink got me on tilt, Ya better sit down 'cause you about to spill Now we approach up on the corner of the house party I'm down, I'm told? Conversation with the krew, I thought you knew to pass the brew Tasted kinda freaked, Saint your ass is through Break out the beer bong man, I want to get faded 'cause drinkin' out the bottle is just so overrated, We got the 22, we're fillin' up on Mickeys Now what's up you drunk bitch? You spillin' on my Dickies Well boost up the bass, go easy on the treble And let 'em all know that we some psycho rebels With our pants saggin', skates in our hand With our pants saggin', skates in our hand With our pants saggin', skates in our hand Now we're rollin' 3 deep and we don't give a damn Bong tokin' alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it The bong tokin' alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack Legalize it! The bong tokin' alcoholics The bong tokin' alcoholics I got the blunts and I got the beer Daddy X hits skins in the rear view mirror We walked up to the spot, the keg's our destination 'cause runnin' local parties is a nightly occupation I went to get a beer, felt a finger in my back "Hey I like your shirt", yeah I see it is quite phat But no time to mack 'cause Saint's drunk as hell He was standin' on the table and he started to yell, "All the freaks up in the party, move around and shake your body And if you're down with the boys of P-Town Lemme see somebody get naughty. Is the west coast in the house? Then pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!" Well get naughty they did and these girls start to strip, Started freakin' on my shit and her boyfriend tried to trip I said "You talk shit, punk? Let's step outside" He put his fists up, I put em on his eye He got a left to the cheek, skateboard to the dome, I busted out the ? and took his girlie home Bong tokin' alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it, The bong tokin' alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack Legalize it! The bong tokin' alcoholics The bong tokin' alcoholics |
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| 2. |
| 4:51 |
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Kottonmouth Kings don't stand for a gang
Kottonmouth Kings just let the nuts hang Everyday thing how we hang, how we hang Kottonmouth Kings just do their own thing This the type of thing that we be doin' everyday Didi dodi didi dodi didi dodi day Make some room so these players can play So we can play on, play on Now I woke up this morning and I thought about Hoss Smoked a cigarette and I chucked my dirty drawers Threw on some Dickies and I grabbed my back chain Slapped it down my waist and I let my pants hang Beanie on my head just to cover up my lump The night before got in a fight just cause I was drunk Grabbed my sack of weed and I loaded up the bong Took a rip held it in then I coughed up a lung Burn some incense so I can cover up the smell An everyday thing that I live to tell Pulled out my Black Flys, covered up my red eyes If that copper pulls me over well its lies, lies, lies Dirty copper, dirty copper, dirty copper Now the stereo is on and the CD was bumpin' Insane Clown Posse talkin' bout chicken huntin' Walked up to the fridge, opened it up and grabbed my brew Picked up the phone dialed my pimp and called the crew Party later on, over by river jetties 56th Street so you know there'll be some betties Pacific Coast Highway takes me to my destination Party time baby, its a nightly occupation Stepped out the pad, walked in the player's den On the way mail a letter to my brother in the pen There's a smile on your face from my smooth dub style See you later alligator, after a while crocodile Now a new day dawned, lets get things started Hit the bong, wrote a song, took a piss and farted Dip my blue jeans in some bleach and starches Mobbin' OC we need the golden arches D-Loc where you at? Saint's hung over and he started to yack Kicked out of Mickey D's cuz we don't know how to act Lets call up Kevin Zinger hook a forty sack Now tonight's the night like DJ Quik At least 3 parties that we gotta hit And if the cops show up were gonna start some shit Riot time baby-Kottonmouth Klick Punk rock music homegrown in OC Adolescents, Doggy Style, DI and Social D No Doubt, Agent Orange now the PTB The last generation of the dynasty Now the skates in the sack lets hit the ditch Broke up with my girlie cause the ho was a bitch Still that boy that be puttin' it down Representin' OC, P-Town This the type of thing that we be doin' everyday Didi dodi didi dodi didi dodi day Make some room so these players can play So we can play on play on Brought the 77 slant nose V-dub Bug Leaks oil but the roads (?)called it crazy (mug?) Its a little noisy but inside its all good Got two 15's underneath the hood Well I was rollin' down Yorba Linda Blvd. Got the neighborhoods bumpin', tainted hard Dodgin' and weavin' down suburban streets Till this one house wife started bitchin' at me So I pulled the bug over and I revved it up First gear lit em up, then I backed it up Over the curb, told her to kiss my ass Gave her the bird, boned out on that ass Back on the mission to score a sack 77 boned out passed the Cadillac Heard a horn honk it was full of freaks Ladies on my tip cause I'm so unique Turn the bass high and I tilted my lid I'm used to gettin' jocked, I'm that P-Town kid And you know I'm doin' shit that you wish you did Dip right goin' 30 around the corner I slid Stopped at the school jumped on my skate 4 freaks showed up, one I use to date They broke out the blunt and they got me stoned Another day gone, so long, so long This the type of thing that we be doin' everyday Didi dodi didi dodi day Make some room so these players can play So we can play on, play on (We don't let them know?) that we smoke out everyday Didi dodi didi dodi day Bring a fat sack so the homies can blaze So we can blaze on, blaze on Didi dodi didi dodi day Didi dodi didi dodi day Play on Blaze on Blaze on Play on Play on Blaze on Blaze on Play on |
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| 3. |
| 3:29 |
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Suburban Life aint what it seems
Suburban life the American dream Suburban life so pretty and clean Suburban life aint what it seems The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me Now my pops bought the system, American dreamer Bought a new home and a brand new Beamer But it didn't long for things things to fall apart Because the system that he bought aint got no heart From the bills for days he got blood shot eyes The American dream was a pack of lies 6 months later Municipal court Divorce time baby, child support I went from home cooked meals to TV dinners No more little Steven, now it's Saint Dogg the sinner There's no cash back cause there was no receipt Man suburban life aint done a dime for me Suburban Life aint what it seems Suburban life the American dream Suburban life so pretty and clean Suburban life aint what it seems The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me Gave in a little deeper to the third degree More drugs, white thugs, and wannabe's Soldiers of the burbs all feel deceived America! What? Land of the green Now you got problems I got mine too There's not enough bud for the Kottonmouth Krew Cause when we smoke we smoke to get away To elevate from this world of hate, never perpetrate I don't want no degree selling herbs on the burbs, On every street No real jobs for the PTB, So what's it gonna be? White minority! Suburban Life aint what it seems Suburban life the American dream Suburban life so pretty and clean Suburban life aint what it seems The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me Now broken homes inside every house Neighbors yellin', can't work it out I said beaten wives, tweaked out nights ooh what a feeling ooh what a life Now you cant turn back the hands of time So let me tell you about da flyest friend of mine He's Bobby B, king of the crops Deep dark purse, phat drop tops Philly blunt placed behind his ear, Two turn tables and a Heineken beer And this is just and everyday thing Kottonmouth Kings telephone rings Its X and you know he's rollin' with Saint Dog Leapin' like some frogs trunk full of hogs Trunk full of stakes, dirt bikes and rakes What ever we could get we was gonna take Just like the pirates of the Caribbean Neighborhood watch don't like what they're seein' Ha ha ha we got it like that Kottonmouth rollin' deep, snatching surfboard racks Suburban Life aint what it seems Suburban life the American dream Suburban life so pretty and clean Suburban life aint what it seems The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me The Big A, little A and a bouncin' B The system got you but it won't get me Suburban Life aint what it seems Suburban life the American dream Suburban life so pretty and clean Suburban life aint what it seems Fuck the system |
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| 4. |
| 3:42 |
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Life aint what it seems, it aint no fucking dream.
So get a grip up on your shit and make sure your pipe's clean. When I drink booze put a crown on my royal Kottonmouth Kings make a pipe outta foil Put a grip to my lip, dip it in honey oil. Smoke it to the butt put it out in the soil. Damn Saint Dog, I'm outta weed again, "I feel ya" Pockets lookin thin aint got a dime to spend! Big Hoss is in the pen, yes he's doing 10, "Fuck the system!" I smoke a cigarette and try to comprehend. Judicial system got me wishing I was president I got a grudge against the judgment that's irrelevant. I write a rhyme to attract and show intelligence Shit, every other night I'm getting hella bent. I roll my skate to relate to this society, society No money in my pockets cause they lied to me, "lied to me too!" No papers to my name, ya see my bong broke, bong broke I guess that's why they call me crazy D-Loc. Life aint what it seems, it aint no fucking dream. So get a grip upon yo shit and make sure yo pipes clean. When I grow buds I put keefe on my soil Put the green in the bing then I make my water boil. Alcohol and rice roll nice with the coil Evian in my bong so my water don't spoil. Damn Loc-Dog I'm outta drink again, "I feel ya!" Buds lookin slim, I need a Heineken, "A Heineken!" My bro's locked down doin 9 or 10, "Fuck that!" Step back, I'm bout to crack, can you comprehend? Placentia City got me witty on this way of life. I (ride?) a duck, what the fuck, skin it with my knife There's a zone in my dome called the twilight I'm down for my crown each and every night Well I keep my tolerance, stay inside my flow Make ya say 'damn bro I got to go to a show' Life aint what it seems, it aint a dream and I aint playing. But I'm Saint Vicious and Daddy X is saying Life aint what it seems, it aint no fucking dream. So get a grip upon yo shit and make sure yo pipes clean. Now when a read a mag put a grand on my royal Government lies yo they make my water boil. R.I.P. to my peeps 6 feet in the soil. Riverside hometown represent, stay loyal. No money for the skate no change for the tax Went surfin with no keefe but forgot the sex wax. Have a purple friend to help ya to relax. A one foot glass called the paramax. Now afternoon to you is my morning I wake up hit the roach and then I'm snoring Outta bed around 3 take 7 BT's Like DJ Rob Harris kid I'm soarin' I pertains an ill congested vibe Makes ladies strive for my bozak Addicted like prozac. You know that I track em like Lojak. I'm slicker and quicker, I'll stick ya like Kojak. I'm alone upon this rhyme that I've created. This rhyme that I've inflated, wont trade it so gimme my space. Government controls so they hated Our life, it has been jaded and faded We're getting erased. Life aint what it seems, it aint no fucking dream. So get a grip upon yo shit and make sure yo pipes clean. |
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| 5. |
| 4:19 |
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I'ma get you So High...
I'ma get you So High... I'ma get you So High... I'ma get you So High... Here I go my mind starts joggin' And I know I shouldn't have been hoggin, that Indo... I know everythings foggin' It's just another case of a man mind bogglin'... Back up off me, I need rooms to puff It's Saint Dog, and I can't get enough Rough. I smoke, so I like it goin' down We're all getting lifted cuz I just stole a pound Two hits and pass, that's what Saint's yellin' But Fuck that shit, I'm hittin till my mind's jellin' And when I'm done, I'll head to Flannagan's To play some pool and max with a couple friends Grabbed a sack, it's off to a local park Break out the bong, pack it tight and let it spark Windows up so the bug's gettin' fishbowled And if you're in you can't escape the indo Oh shit, it's gettin' deep into my mind I took seven hits off that bud called kind Close my eyes, my mind starts joggin' Here I go again, man, I'm mind boggling I'ma get you so high, I'ma make that ass fly, Pack up the bong stand by, I'ma get you so high Here I go my mind starts joggin' And I know I shouldn't have been hoggin, that Indo... I know everythings foggin' It's just another case of a man mind bogglin'... Here I go reminiscing about the weekend Takin' time to remember where my shit has been Dinner to dancing, fly girl romancing Ballin' with the homies, smoking buds and relaxin' High fashion, is how I was smoking Fuck the schwag weed, indo is what I'm tokin' Spliff to my lips as I tilt my head back Lookin like a mack cuz I'm down to blaze a sack I said (Inhale, exhale), Kottonmouth hit so I said, "that's swell" Pass a tweak to the left, party buzz's set in I need some fresh air because I'm high off that in Walked towards the door but I didn't get far High kicked in, I took a seat at the bar As I look into the sky and the air starts smoggin' Here I go again kid, I'm mind boggling I'ma get you so high, I'ma make that ass fly, Pack up the bong stand by, I'ma get you so high Here I go my mind starts joggin' And I know I shouldn't have been hoggin, that Indo... I know everythings foggin' It's just another case of a man mind bogglin'... Smoke sliffs, and live the life of Riley, Stay high and be so damn smiley, For then I won't worry about tomorrow, Because tomorrow only brings pain and sorrow. Here I go getting deep into my mind again Thinking bout good times, smoking kind again By myself so you say... (Man your hooked on Chronic!) Am I a stoner or a loner Man I can't call, In this cell-lock realm that I'm livin' in (????) I got family members fiending from the cocaine And loved ones locked up in prison That's why I'm bailin', yellin', "Man fuck the system!" All the pressures of this life get me frustrated So I reach for the bong so I can get faded I blaze a bowl hope it takes me to another level To escape the pain and all my life's trouble Close my eyes, and pray take the pain away Ask the Lord should I live to see another day Rob Harris died, I guess that's one of life's little tests Jason Thirsk took a bullet straight to the fucking chest Monique Delgado my first real true love Died at 23, now she's waiting for me up above I grabbed a pipe, pack it tight, start hoggin' Here I go again motherfucker my mind's boggling! I'ma get you so high, I'ma make that ass fly, Pack up the bong stand by, I'ma get you so high Smoke sliffs, and live the life of Riley, Stay high and be so damn smiley, For then I won't worry about tomorrow, Because tomorrow only brings pain and sorrow. I'ma get you so high, I'ma get you so high, I'ma get you so high, I'ma get you so high, Mind bogglin'... |
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| 6. |
| 2:59 |
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State of California, finds you guilty, guilty
Although I did them no wrong they laid a trap for me Although I did them no wrong they dug a pit for me So let's certain ruin, over take them Let them be caught in the snare they set for me Let them fall to destruction in the pit they dug for me Better get your facts straight, know what I'm saying? Another day in the motherfucking cell Hope all you motherfuckers are happy Fucking sellouts Now this is going out to Big Hoss up in prison Going out to Big Hoss And anybody else who got busted by the system What's up Big Hoss? What's up ST? 3 years later, long time no see You know things just ain't the same since ya been inside Yeah, they took away my freedom but they can't take my pride From the Riverside County to the St.Cloud Pen They said 435 so fuck it, I took 10 Well then, sometimes I sip on my gin And think about the things we used to do back when When we was growing up? yeah we was just kids Still I regret some of the shit I did Some people think this place is for my own good, But who the fuck are they to take away my childhood? And leave your baby son with just a momma to mold him And no fucking daddy around to hold him But I hold him, like he's one of my own Tell him bout me daily until his his daddy comes home I gives a fuck, if I sin for revengance, I put the face in a fucking fist, Have them beggin for forgiveness, Nah Saint just let 'em live through this Cuz karma's got a way of coming back and returning Besides Momma don't need another son servin' I gotta go cuz my time's almost up man Alright Big Hoss, you stay up Alright Saint Cuz karma's got a a way of coming back and returning Going out to Big Hoss Moms and Pops don't need another son servin' Shit, free to the people in power with the uniform |
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| 7. |
| 3:51 |
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Sick and tired, the way they walk
Sick and tired, the way they talk Sick and tired, the things they say Sick and tired, where's my J? Sick and tired, same old song Sick and tired, where's my bong? Sick and tired, anarchy! Spies are all around me, Spies in every county Spies, my head's are bounty Snipers in the air The neighborhood watch is after us. The neighborhood watch don't like Richter's bus The neighborhood watch is what they say, But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another... Generation X is the title they use When I skate down MacKenzie Avenue. Everybody that I see is lookin at me like a vandal Maybe cause I'm (wheelin?) in some Dickies and some sandals Man, I know what you mean when you talk about the neighborhood The old folks always sayin that we ain't no good Talkin to my pops about my music Sayin we should keep it down and not abuse it Man, I don't sweat those old ass bastards. I just sit on the curb and with my herb and get plastered They work all day long, they seem so bored I think their ass should reside in the county morgue They're postin up signs, man I think they should chill Talkin if I don't call the cops then my neighbor will Cause from city to city it's all the same. The neighborhood watch is a big ass gang Sick and tired the way they walk, Sick and tired the way they talk Sick and tired the things they say, sick and tired. Where's my J? Sick and tired, same old song, sick and tired where's my bong? Sick and tired, anarchy! Spies are all around me, Spies in every county Spies, my head's are bounty Snipers in the air The neighborhood watch is after us. The neighborhood watch don't like Richter's bus The neighborhood watch is what they say, But when I think they're walkin towards me, I light another... Every night when the street lights came on We used to gather round, take rips from that bong. Cause John Wayne Country, republican block A bunch of overweight housewives that wanna be cops. Cook and clean, the life of slave Take Kottonmouth's advice and call Jenny Craig It's not in my control, when we were in school Wanna see us livin life like the golden rule Peepin out the window, folks always looking Minding my business when they should be cooking Bored is how their life must be, Wait till there's a real crime on our street That's when, yeah they'll all run and hide Leaving Kottonmouth behind to take the neighborhood pride When the criminals are lying dead in the streets Kottonmouth's returning all the stolen TVs Yeah but that's all right, it's all good Now you know who's watchin this neighborhood Cause from city to city it's all the same The neighborhood watch is a bitch ass gang Sick and tired, the way they walk Sick and tired, the way they talk Sick and tired, the things they say Sick and tired, where's my J? Sick and tired, same old song Sick and tired, where's my bong? Sick and tired, anarchy! Spies are all around me, Spies in every county Spies, my head's are bounty Snipers in the air The neighborhood watch is after us. The neighborhood watch don't likeRichter's bus. The neighborhood watch is what they say, But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another... |
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| 8. |
| 4:11 |
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(Intro):
Creep, creep, I'm on the creep The creep for the kind bud O.C. late night, rolling in the v-dub Sick of scraping resin so I'm looking for a sack All I learn, I'll head for burn BSO's got my back Right on, right on brother, blaze on You better rip that shit, rip it It's that 1605 shit, real hunnington beats Backyard fucking, garage style (Chorus): Bump, bump, bump That's the sound of the fifteens while they're hitting in my trunk Said bump, bump, bump We're the Kottonmouth Kings and we don't give a fuck (Verse) Saint Dog: Well I'm that kid that the bitches talk about Saint's what they shout, you got all the clout A day in the life of a Kottonmouth King, 1605 (fool pass me the thing) Now the stereo is off, I sway, push play You hear humble gods from a mile away All the heads are bobbing because the base is bumping D-Loc is mumbling, (I got a little something) Well he passed me a hornet and I took a sip Sparked up a bowl and I took a rip, trip Came to halt at an intersection Turned up the music at my discretion D-Loc in the back said what do I see A jeep full of freaks just staring at me D-Loc was right, they were in a range rover Looked over my shoulder, I pulled them all over They got out the car and stepped to my side I said, hello ladies let's take a ride I'm Saint Dog, that's D-Loc the man Daddy X is the one that's driving the van So climb on in and don't be shy We're gonna close the doors and let the games be fly Once again I said it, my name's ST It's just another day of a P-T-B Come on, come on (Chorus)x2 Saint Dog putting it down for suburban pride (Verse) Saint Dog: I was living my life on a nine to five Up early in the morning trying to survive Chump change, it's a shame, with no education No inspiration, no destination, But now my occupation is to do what I like Keep the crowd moving and rock the mic Because if I don't rock it, then another sucker will And if you don't jock it, then I can't pay the bills Trick Daddy X threw me out on stage Said Saint, represent for the underage Same damn year, my face is up and raised Got that ring in my nose labeled sixteen gauge D-Loc: No Saint dog, I hunt ducks with a twelve gauge And when I'm on the stage, yes I get get real blazed Get me on the court my skills will put you in a maze T-T-T-twicking a twine all day Come on, come on (Chorus)x3 D-Loc's on the mic, rip rip shit up (Verse) D-Loc: It's the unpolitical, psychoanalytical, Undefeated Champ that will stick you fool My style is crazy, not wooka wakka lazy If you chill with me I'll be sure to (blaze thee) Plant you in the ground, let you drift like a daisy That shit's in my system makes my life kind of hazy My momma, my poppa, I think I should tell them The J gots my head, and fucked up my cerebellum It's about time to compute your math Because my beats keep bumping like a seismograph See I've tripped before, but never like this Straight to my mind, put my brain in a bliss I wont fake the funk, when I'm smoking on a skunk That forty bowl evil got my peacock drunk And like Micky Mantle, I can switch my stance I'm a supercharged baller that's electrically enhanced My flows are silky soft, like I'm writing them in lotion And I'm a lyricist, that's poetry in motion To each town, to each house, I cause mass commmotion ?????? take it all for my potion Farewell to all and to all goodnight I'm leaving these ??? out all night Wait wait wait you said ??? that shit will suck you up Get off the ??? and rock the bump Come on (Chorus)x1 Biotch! |
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| 9. |
| 4:26 |
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Wise man he once told me, lost cause, ain't worth a roll
But our wheels keep spinning, I guess we broke the mold, I don't know The life I lead is the life of a dog I may have fleas but I run our yard I see those clones looking down on me But unlike those clones this dog is free Oh Lord it's a dog's life I'm feeling kinda irie It's bubblin' inside me Straight up it's a dog's life Wait wait wait, stop that track Let's rewind, retract, pull slack and roll back To the days when I hung with G-mack you got to face facts So relap, what about G-mack? Met his homie E-Loc, met his cousin D-Loc Move into his house and we didn't wanna be broke So Loc slung smoke, I wrote rhymes Decided way back that we have good times And we drank brews, and we shot booze Both got ladies and broke the rules But when I snooze my squeeze, clean my slate And like a dog should, yo I pissed on his plate Man I'm lovin' Southern Cali, drinkin' brews in the alleys Holding down the stages from Diego to the Valley Bustin' on my Kauwai, getting lifted off the Maui As I fly, goin' big at Snow Valley Oh Lord it's a dog's life I'm feeling kinda irie It's bubblin' inside me The life I lead is the life of a dog, I may have fleas But I run our yard I ain't no slave to a suit and a tie No rat race clone, I'll never be that guy I ain't got caught up in some selfish career I'm livin' in love, but I'm not in fear I see those clones lookin down on me But unlike those clones my mind is free Save the mold for the clones, my mental's home grown I'd rather be myself than live |
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| 10. |
| 3:21 |
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I said my momma don't understand me, Daddy never really cared
Fuck the rest, I've failed their test, I guess life just ain't fair. A preacher mane me man, I got a mic in my hand And it's my time to rock the stage, misunderstood. One in a million, a million in one A stoner reeking havoc, but I don't carry a gun Only a microphones so I can rock the stage, Don't got a beeper But I got some pages of some dope ass lyrics From my imagination Smoked out the officer on my probation, Bustin caps in the balls of this generation, I flip this phat verse with no hesitation, My bro Mad Dog, the south bay psycho, got the bong and bud, (?) everlasting cycle, the dates (?) don't get no sweeter, My boy B-Dub ain't a mother fucka tweaka, He's a ganja man, that's the way it goes, 2 turntables always rockin' shows, Hey Bobby B, how does your bud grow? Shhh....That's on the down low. I said my momma don't understand me, Daddy never really cared Fuck the rest, I've failed their test, I guess life just ain't fair. A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change, But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand And it's my time to rock the stage, misunderstood. Kottonmouth komittee made of horny devils, psycho rebels, Bitch turn up the treble, We wanna be heard 'cuz we speak the truth, Yo we miss Rob Harris in the DJ booth And that's the truth, cuz that's the roots, We miss Rob Harris in the DJ booth. Yo all I'm sayin' kid is the freedom of speech, A freedom to blaze, a freedom to reach, New plateaus are a high away, 2 joints in the morning then I'm A-OK, I smoke two joints in the morning, Get the vodka then I mix the OJ, okay. I said my momma don't understand me, Daddy never really cared Fuck the rest, I've failed their test, I guess life just ain't fair. A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change, But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand And it's my time to rock the stage, misunderstood. I'm D-Loc I puff all the smoke, Never have herbs cuz I'm always broke, Never had a job, probably never will, That's right Saint Dog, we kings of the hill. I'm Saint Dog never find me trippin', Never gun grippin', always 40 sippin' Anarchy is the life of me, give me booze, blunts, broads And I'll tap all three, I got a German glow with an irie flow You're red in the face cuz I bucked your hoe, So what now bro? You know we told ya so, We got more game that L.A.'s got blow Yo my boy D-Loc got ears like a monkey, My boy Saint Dog is a hip-hop drunkie, DJ Bobby B gots the tracks that are funky, If you really must know I grow my green bud skunky I said my momma don't understand me, Daddy never really cared Fuck the rest, I've failed their test, I guess life just ain't fair. A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change, But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand And it's my time to rock the stage, misunderstood. |
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| 11. |
| 2:34 |
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Yo man I got some sick ass shit, I got all kinds of bongs.
I got fuckin, I got paramaxes, I got graffix I got all the dope shit I got superbowls, I got fuckin skunk weed, I got skillz, listen I'll get me on the court, you know what I'm saying? I got skillz. Look I got crossovers, I got doms, I got lobs, I got ups I got all kinds of skillz, I got homeboys, I got weed, I get high. I'm fuckin I got dope VW car with fat ass fuckin whomper, motherfucker... I gots the light if you gots the time I gots the joint if you gots the rhyme I gots the ink if you gots the papers I gots the flow if you'll catch the vapors. Crazy man. Suburban ebonics coming out my mouth. Take a lesson bitch boy that's Kottonmouth. But your square nerdy asses won't understand. So yo, break em off a fat ass piece man. Dirt slang, it starts like this bro, I play dunk ball with the homies and I eats pink taco 714 bustin up yo ass. Suburban white bonics they don't teach in class. It's the psychedelic hip hop punk rock shit. So let me tell you mother fuckers who your fucking with. Well I'm Saint Dog and I spills my schpeil. When I gets lit I like to bark some shit, Like it sucked up, cracked out, cock out biatch, I only take licks and a I don't shoot rips. I got you puzzled like the wrinkles on my scrotum sac. I got a gang a year, I keep my kicks on a rack. From Airwalks to Bocks to Docs to Birkenstock Top it all off with some old skool socks. No wonder why your old lady rides my jock. I got her tied up like a boat to a dock. Yo I twist up your mind with my wicked hog slang. Uck-fay ou-yay umb-day itch-bay, Aint-say og-day ever-nay lays-pay. Now that's the type of shit comin slurred from Saint. Emergency, emergency 911, Kottonmouth's on the mic So you bitches better run. I gots the light if you gots the time I gots the joint if you gots the rhyme I gots the ink if you gots the papers I gots the flow if you'll catch the vapors. Crazy man. Dirt slang. |
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| 12. |
| 3:53 |
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Some people like to lick it
Others crack a sack, blaze it up and kick it. Some like to think with a drink their hand It all depends on the ends that you're willing to spend what's your trip? I need another lick, I need another lick what's your trip? I need another lick, I need another lick As I flow let the shit seep deep into your ear drums Alien fly ass rhymes as you hear them Peep this sound it's from the darkest side of the planet A little tab of paper and I'll walk the planet It's about to happen in the next few hours, I've entered a world with billions of flowers Pixies all dancing all around my head Chillin' to the melodies of the Grateful Dead The walls get wavy and melt like gravy I ask myself is there something here to save me? Oh, oh, oh shit what the fuck have I done? A little tab of paper that I put on my tongue. Now the demons are coming from above and beyond and they're stabbing at my face with their brains every bones I ask myself is it worth it to lick? I guess I'm undecided So fool what's your trip? I need another rip, I need another rip What's your trip? I need another rip, I need another rip Some people like to lick it Others crack a sack, blaze it up and kick it Some like to think with a drink in their hand It all depends on that ends that you're willing to spend Do I lick or do I sip? None of the above cause I just take rips From a pipe, sometimes a bong with some smoke Cause it feels damn good when it lingers in my lungs I'm a ganja man, I like a J in my hand At all times burning so my high never lands I'ma get you soooo high, that's what 'I'm sayin When it comes to smokin, man I'm never playin Just steady blazin, its amazin how I'm hazin They never perpetrate and with the highs I'm elevating And always skating when I get a board When I bust an ollie off my ear falls a joint And then I pick it up, and then I spark it up And then I smoke it to the head until I'm lifted up No I cant deny Chinese eyed until the day that I die I take rips, so bitch what's your trip? I need another sip, I need another sip What's your trip? I need another sip, I need another sip What's your trip? Some people like to lick it, Others crack a sack blaze it up and kick it Some like to think with a drink in their hand It all depends on the ends that you're willing to spend You wanna know my trip? We wanna know your trip You wanna take a lick? You wanna take a lick you wanna take a rip of my trip heres a sin Sip (sip) of some gin now give me your tip. On point, I need a joint when I'm drinkin Yes I'm seekin for a 40 to get my buzz peakin Now I'm leakin all over my self? What you wanna do, get another bottle of booze? You should have eaten some food Instead of drinkin on an empty stomach Just don't talk cause my buzz is gettin kinda chronic Bionic, here comes another stage, Well this is why I say not to drink while you rage Head spins, what the fucks goin on? Head spins, you need to stick to your bong Well no face first, X clenching on the dirt slang My head starts spinning I'm about to fall in to the earth My mouth starts to water, X says "Puke it out" Fuck that shit, man that ain't what I'm about My eye starts to tear, but that puke i would fear Pass the malt liquor, gimme another beer Yo yeah man that's my mother fuckin dog SAINT DOG Some people like to lick it, Others crack a sack blaze it up and kick it Some like to think with a drink in their hand, It all depends on the ends that you're willing to spend. |
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| 13. |
| 3:40 |
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Now, don't get me wrong the 10 Commandments is cool,
See once upon a time I too believed in the Golden Rule Unemployment figures at an all time high (?) nation dwindled, so the (saut?) swindle Got tossed the fuck out the window. You know what I'm saying? Kottonmouth kings still blowin smoke rings. Keep your head up. It's a high society It's time for some realization, Not fueled by media manipulations But the manifestation of the last generation, legalization Fuck your pensions if you're paid, pay attention Teachers of this land, yo your all on detention You failed to mention about this everyday struggle, Placed me in a bubble but it popped on the double, Now your in trouble cuz I'm older now I'm bolder now, Bitch, I'm a soldier now Been raised to blaze in the simple place, Like a greyhound's race to brace this of disgrace I've seen people starved till there no life left, I've seen heads kicked in for the words that they said Police crackin skulls with no questions asked, A suicidal shot from a shotgun blast It didn't have nothing to do with the hoes that they popped in here It didn't have shit to do with the ones that they dropped in here It didn't have nothing to do with the land that got stole believe me motherfucker, I see right through your mind control I won't drown, drown, drown in your society High times, it's a high society Lies, lies everyone keeps tryin me Why wont they just let me be? It's a high society First of all lets get this straight, this systems full of shit, They say "In God we trust", your a fuckin hypocrite Crooked politicians lying out their ass Money hungry whores behind the doors smokin grass No trust in the nation, trust in the nation Spending all the money on the fucking immigration Walls caving in it's getting hard to breathe 51-50's what this system's done to me! Money don't mean shit to me, it grows on evil trees It breaks up families, it's more like a disease Cuz it's tension, did I mention it's the governments invention, Dollar dollar bill ya'll Currency a money dollar for 20 bucks, You can make somebody's daughter suck a (hooker-holla?) Turn a boy into a baller, watch his chips stack taller, Dollar dollar bill ya'll You'll see all or nothin in this game of survival Gots hustlers holdin on to the scams, They can (watch?) their bible But I'm viable for me to stay tribal, And keep making these flows undeniable But its viable for me to stay tribal, And keep making these flows undeniable I won't drown, drown, drown in your society High times, it's a high society Lies, lies everyone keeps tryin me Why wont they just let me be? It's a high society Now a nation that's stolen, can never be golden Compassion's not true in, in this (shallow amount?) of ruin. Modern industry, the industrial complex A system of no balance, and not enough checks Disease bred, transmitted through sex Revelation (to for wishin'?) Can you pay the tuition? Can you make the grade ? Is life really all about getting paid? Money can't buy nothing buried in a grave Slave driven, unforgiven The more you make, the better your livin' So it's all role-playin, playing roles, grave diggers diggin' holes Genetics strange, passed down through years of pain So the cure you seek for the mentally weak is just the norm As we weather the storm, so it's conform or suffer |
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| 14. |
| 4:58 |
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This is Kona-Gold from the Hawaiian Islands of creation,
Mass plantation With the kottonmouth kings burnin up the nation. Don't watch your back cause we're comin through front And when we're on stage yeah we're smokin like a blunt My minds always trippin so you know I can not front We're the Kottonmouth Kings, we're kickin psychedelic funk Puffin on a blunt, indo, schwag, or skunk Southern Cali punks kickin psychedelic funk Shit its a damn good day, got money in the bank, Cash in my tank, pays for my dank Got a new Paramax, money for the taxes, And for the plenty herb the lord I do thank Boom, shit, bang, X is the name Dirt slang's the game and I bang poontang It's the first county all league pimp selection, Bobby B's on the mix with the vinyl injection I went from sinner to Saint, Saint back to sinner Once was a preacher, but I huff paint thinner Took your boo home and that bitch made me dinner Rolled a couple phillies and I went up in her. It's the capital D, the L-O-C Can't nobody even fuck with me, hell no My style is free, I bangs the P, I tagged the circle "A" for anarchy Don't watch your back cause we're comin through the front And when we're on stage yeah we're smokin like a blunt My minds always trippin so you know I can not front We're the Kottonmouth Kings, we're kickin psychedelic funk Puffin on a blunt, indo, swag, or skunk Southern Cali punks kickin psychedelic funk Hot Damn! I'm back in my van. Copper pulled me over, asked me what's my plan? Been sniffin around like Toucan Sam, WHAT? BAM BAM! Now there's bacon on the van I said fuck the police I'm an old school skata Pull upside the curb, throw up, peace say lata Got a dark vibe like that fool Darth Vador, Told you mother fuckers I'm an old school skater I'm D-Loc so fair is fair, party over here, fuck you over there I got a bag of bud smothered in red hair Saint Dog started drinking so you better beware I got so much bounce you can feel my vibration, Easy access for easy penetration What's all this talk about a generation? Legalize the plant Lets free this nation (Buyaka Buyaka?) hemp plantation (Buyaka Buyaka?), free this nation Don't watch your back cause we're comin through the front And when we're on stage yeah we're smokin like a blunt My minds always trippin so you know I can not front We're the Kottonmouth Kings, we're kickin psychedelic funk Puffin on a blunt indo, swag, or skunk Southern Cali punks kickin psychedelic funk Now the kind I smoke is dipped in Willie Wonka Chocolate factory, I take more hits than Tonka Light you up like blanca, get u buzzin like a bee We're the bong tokin fiends representin' OC Oh oh oh shit I'm back up in the mix Its D-loc with the grab bag of tricks Your bitch is on my dick, your momma is too And this is going out to the Kottonmouth krew Damn that gets old, wearin' ties that don't fit Dirty wife beaters, I should just quit But I don't give a shit my rhymes make me legit Whores in my hand as I bounce through the pit Punk rock and I can't forget cha Kottonmouth Kings up in the picture Suburban noise, man I thought you knew, And if you're down with punk rock, throw your horns up fool Yes we're comin through with an oldie brew West coast juggalos sayin hoodie hoo Don't watch your back cause we're comin through the front And when we're on stage we're smokin like a blunt My minds always trippin so you know I can not front We're the Kottonmouth Kings, we're kickin psychedelic funk Puffin on a blunt indo, swag, or skunk Southern Cali punks kickin psychedelic funk Scratch pow, don't ask me how Even if I knew I wouldn't tell you any how Take that! Let's fishbowl this bitch What's the time? Its time to get lit Buyaka buyaka, splif to the clip Now the roach is lit, goes right to my lip Inhale, hold it real deep Orange county horny devils back on the fuckin creep! |
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| 15. |
| 4:31 | 
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| 16. |
| 4:10 |
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Watch it, watch it, watch it
Dog Boy here, and I'm stickin' with the Kings Cool and delayed Saint!, comin' comin' I be getting faded, discombobulated Never say I made it till I'm pissin' off the top O.C. playas, fly rhyme sayers Haters can't fade us cuz it's true hip-hop MC-in' is the place for me to be in And nut-swinging is the way that I be G-in' Never leanin' to the old, for the lyrical hold Keep my shit bold, morals i stole Fuck parol when I stroll, man I dodge five-O I dip-dive, fuck a bribe, live to rock the show and the ho Skip the blow, gimme the 40, yo I like a lady down to ride like a rodeo You see anarchy are flies like the hemp on a hippy Cussin' like a mother cuz my head's a little trippy My bud's I like 'em sticky, so pack another rip, D High as the plains west of the Mississippi I be getting faded, discombobulated Never say I made it till I'm pissin' off the top O.C. playas, fly rhyme sayers, Haters can't fade us cuz it's true hip-hop Eh rude boy, lad you party nonstop You're the first to start, you're the last to drop Eh rude boy, you never fear the cops cuz music is our weapon And that them can't stop Punk rock mental my thoughts are horse Hip hop freestyle, freedom of course Ooh, my old girl Mary better known as a shwag-hag Every other night she help me out buying dime bags A dime to a twenty, to a forty, to E I switched to homegrown now I puff on Bobby B's, yo I be getting faded, discombobulated Never say I made it till I'm pissin' off the top O.C. playas, fly rhyme sayers, They just can't fade us cuz it's true hip-hop Eh rude boy, lad you party nonstop, You're the first to start, you're the last to drop Eh rude boy, you never fear the cops cuz music is our weapon And that them can't stop Check your traits, you perpetrate I can't relate Your mental mind state is far to overrate, you can't skate Don't sit and debate, you need to skip the state Ask Jesus Christ to clean the slate I think it's fate, I ain't done yet so wait Your philosophies, pale and underweight, they're out of date One mo' thing, and then we're straight, put the fake to sleep And then I catch you at the wake And then we'll bake, and once again try to relate Hopefully the good will win, you'll lose the hate Counts are closed, I think were up to date Wake up young chump, get a grip, checkmate Sound boy, you should've thanked the Saint He just saved your life from a terrible fate Sound boy, Saint just put you in check He set you straight to save your own neck I be getting faded, discombobulated Never say I made it till I'm pissin' off the top O.C. playas, fly rhyme sayers, They just can't fade us cuz it's true hip-hop Oh, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy Singing with the Kings up on the record version Eh rude boy, I say you party nonstop You're the first to start, you're the last to drop Eh rude boy, you never fear the cops cuz music is our weapon And that them can't stop Shucka shucka to all the rude boys Shucka shucka with Suburban Noize Coming in unity, like one big family Every S.B. release gonna make you feel so irie It's Dog Boy, you know me chat nonstop Seeking the roots rub-a-dub, ragamuffin punk rock It's Dog Boy, kickin down your shit From your microphone, ear, to your consolate Like the black flag song, we're gonna rise above Every time we're coming with respect and love I am the one Dog-Boy from L.A., CA In the name of unity I man must say From London, to Kingston, from the South Bay All me out to do is flash my stylee Now I am a-comin' and I'm settin' em down Little sound boy with no solution Check the bag, with just one flow You may find you don't need a ego It's Dog Boy, you know me chat nonstop With the roots rub-a-dub, ragamuffin punk rock Eh rude boy, you never fear the cops, music is our weapon And that them can't stop |
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| 17. |
| 5:26 |
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| 18. |
| 4:35 |
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That's life, that's the way it goes
Layin' down laws and taxin' hos Sometimes I can't take no more Always leaving shows through the back door What you got D-Toke? Now what you got ST? Teach me how to get my mack to a T First of all, I put that pimp twist on her Then I let her know that I'm a P-Town baller Next thing you know, you see I get no rejection High in charisma, smooth-ass complexion I'm Daddy X and I come with correction You know there's infection, so wear some protection Ain't nobody slicker than B-Dub on the mixer Don't bring your girlfriend 'round because he's down to get with her Fool what you barkin', it must be the liquor I'm back on your bitch so stick around like a sticker Naw, but I'm quicker cuz I'm the D-L-O-C All the freaks know me, they call me Loc Daddy I rock shit on the daily, your girlfriend she paged me I bust you in the grill, then go chill with your lady It's the pimp twist, it's the pimp twist Yeah, yeah, pimpin ain't easy! That's life, that's the way it goes Layin' down laws and taxin' hos Sometimes I can't take no more Always leaving shows through the back door Yo I'm Saint Dub, and known to drink some brandy I gots the foul whistle cuz it comes in handy I once knew this bitch by the name of Candy But he kicked her out because the punani was sandy Saint Dog kicked her out, Daddy X took her in Massengil, Summer's Eve, then I sexed her skin No girlfriend because they're too damn hectic I only like the ones that are down to get naked Well Loc knew Candy, I knew that bitch I took her out once, made her think I'm rich Romance, slow dance, made her feel great And at the end of the night I worked that ass like a slave Loc did you call her? I didn't bend a wrist Fool, I thought you knew it's the fucking pimp twist It's the pimp twist, it's the pimp twist Kottonmouth is the crew that the ladies miss Yes, they down with this, and so they reminisce About the day they were caught up in the pimp twist That's life, that's the way it goes Layin' down laws and taxin' hos Sometimes I can't take no more Always leaving shows through the back door Now P-Town ballers is the name I claim Been through many cities and it's all the same I see a freak, I look in her direction 5 minutes later she'll be licking my erection Now I'm not a cock blocker like you might suppose Just a game I run on these mother fucking hos Like I once knew this girl named Vanessa, I undressed her Last December, or November. Was it September? I'm a stoner reeking havoc, I don't remember, shit! Hold your seat Let me take you to another plateau Exhilaration of your mind comes with my flow Really though, I'll let you know I'm that boy ST Exposing your mind to the rhymes of a P-Town baller I'll make your girl holler my name in pain as I proceed to call her My versatile machine on my new found lady Hit it once and she'll be down to pay me No babies cuz I elect to protect From that HIV shit if my dick gets erect, so check After I'm through, it's out the door, I thought you knew I'm a P-Town Baller, fool I gotta tell the crew It's the pimp twist, it's the pimp twist Kottonmouth make a sweet girl turn a trick And yes, she's down with this, and so she'll reminisce About the days she was caught up in the pimp twist Perpetrator? Naw, educator Playa hata? More like a generator Hesitater? Naw, demonstrator Masturbator? Naw, masticator on you old lady's twat The shit was hot, the pussy got got, I hit the G-spot My other buddy ate it, his tongue got rot But he knew what he was in for when the booze got bought Now that's not a lot but that's food for thought You gotta bur up if she's hot to trot Like it or not you need to smoke more pot And think about your problems, connect the dots That's life, that's the way it goes Layin' down laws and taxin' hos Sometimes I can't take no more Always leaving shows through the back door With the dirty ho, through the back door Took the little skeezy to the mo-mo And now it's oh no about the info Gotta keep the shit on the down low On the down low, about the info Gotta keep the shit on the down low |
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