Groovin' on a Sunday

Lyrics

[Intro] Headed for the liquor store And I'm four deep, uh, could never be five And my homeboysknowwhy 'Cause I gotthe fifteen-shot HK [Verse 1] Stopped at a FlorinRoad light on a Sunday I got my .45 cocked forthisfunday Everybody from theSouthside in theyride Gold thangs, candy paint's hittin', lookin' nice Some hoes pulled up in a candy pink 5-O Top down, poundin' like Live Oaks Should I snatch 'em, lynch 'em Tie 'em to the bed and then pitch 'em? I think I'll clown, hoppin' ass up off the ground Sun shinin' and we headed for that Miller's Park Hit C&B's on Broadway Boulevard Ass poppin' '4's droppin' Hoes flockin', playa haters hawkin' Just mad 'cause I'm rich and famous And still a gangsta, ridin' on Daynas The Hindus still run the liquor store And when I step in, they all say "What's up, 'Bo?" 'Cause they know it's Henn' hog With no chaser, goin' for the dog It's just another one of those fun days As we groove in my 7-6 on a Sunday [Interlude] Groovin' in my 7-6, all on my tip Shoulda made a right, made a left I'm goin' down to the county My ride got towed But I'll be out in a minute Back on my Vogues [Verse 2] It's dark time, and the park is much live I mean, there's hoes all over the lot with that plump that's just right And I'm gettin' play, 'cause I stay a celeb Creased Levi's, Air Nikes, cornrows in hair Got my strap in my pocket 'cause I can't be slippin' Got one in the chamber and if these fools start trippin' Then I'm off and audi, leavin' the set cloudy White and gold Daytons, smoking on a pound of weed Broadway's so packed, you can't get your smash on I'm looking out for the jackers, prepared to get my blast on Night time, red lights, hoochie mamas skin tight Daisy Duke shorts and the Henn' got my game tight Smooth, I love to get my groove on Fools try to count the spokes but get moved on Zap in my lap, gettin' much dap From all the OG's that's on my team Bombed out indo chronic got me numbed out, brain on stuck Drunk as a skunk I got my homies behind me two-deep in Burban, pervin' Drop cut to nine rocks, hit the block servin' 'em As we groove on a Sunday [Outro] Groovin' in my 7-6, letting the white and gold Daytons just spin Zap on my lap, hand on my strap as the hoes grin They know they can't ride for free 'Cause I'm already four-deep You can take this number and call me on the under And get with me later Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6 Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6 Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6 Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6 And we on, and we on, and it's gone Pass the blunt, pass the joint, pass the bomb That's the bomb, G, I likes that shit I think that's the bomb right there I think the homies gon' be bumpin' that shit right there, boy I'm tellin' you The beat just slammin', man You can tell that's Mike Mosley and Sam Bostic Man, you can just tell that's them, man Listen to that shit, fool Bo just be bustin', that nigga ain't no joke, fool Y'all can't fuck with him Y'all niggas know y'all can't fuck with him Don't get mad, though, it's all good Shit, that nigga, though, man, them niggas tight Them niggas on A.W.O.L. is tight, man Them A.W.O.L. niggas tight Yeah, you know it, it's goin' down They got they foot in the door now Damn, "The Autopsy" — that's a weird ass name, dog I think that shit gon' go bomb, though It's gon' go bomb