At It Again

Lyrics

[Intro] Ha A-one-two, a-one-two, a-one-two, a-hey-hey Hey, hey, hey Let's go (Motherfucker) [Verse 1: E-Swift] I call a foul on the play You shook, like you got a child on the way I took my time comin' back and I'ma stay And y'all gon' show me my respect, namaste And I'ma say this, I ain't overlooked (Uh-huh) My passport's full, I'm gettin' overbooked (Yep) I represent the West Coast underground Went to the land down under and I tore it down Uh-oh, they at it again I spaz like I'm asthmatic with the pad and the pen They say I threw my hands up, I took that on thе chin (Yeah right) Never forfеit, man, I'm in the game to win You never hear me ask where the syrup at I'm too busy tryna bring my whole era back Matter fact, action speaks louder than words So let me get back to it, sit back and observe [Verse 2: Tash] Task talks third person, so I flow like it's three of me I'm secretly the best, nod your head if you agree with me I'm seein' we agreein', so I'm peepin' out the scenery Marijuana's legal, let me tell you what this mean to me Free all the homies locked up for weed cases Keep the pedophiles, the racists, and freebasers Let's face it, laws are racist towards the Blacks and the esés In and out of court, fightin' cases for a decade SMH, I'm still shakin' my head I can't hang with little homies pill poppin' their meds Keep it up and they dead, or headed straight to the feds They on five drugs at once, brain scrambled like eggs Fuck the hotheads, I party with the potheads That's why all my niggas got bread Sticks, come and party with Tha Liks 30 years in the game and still bangin' out the hits [Verse 3: J-Ro] It's Tha Liks in the spot, we makin' it hot Everybody on the floor like the doors are locked I don't give two shits who the shoe fits I serve MC's from Cali out to Massachusetts I took my dog out and came back with a new bitch You only keep it poppin' 'cause your face got a few zits Who's this? It's J-Ro, that's third person I walk in the spot with three birds served irkin' Fifty bags ain't enough My dog's in the pound like Daz and Kurupt Swift and Tash in the house, so they boarded it up Yellow tape around the bar 'cause they ordered it up Three grown dudes goin' hard for the children Ain't no beats left 'cause we already killed 'em If you feelin' that, throw your hand to the ceiling If you feelin' that, throw your hand to the ceiling, ah