Coolio: One mo'

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 nigga 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 nigga (Nigga) 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 ass 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 bitch 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