Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Erick Sermon, A G Wright, Reggie Noble
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RedmanDa Da DaHHH Lyrics:
Cut, cut, cut, cut
Yo, I gotta backache, stomach ache, diarrhea, vomitin'
Cold feet, runny nose, headache, insomnia
Cranky, moody, burpin' while I'm cursin'
Baby chair tied in a suburban drinkin' burpin'
I'm only three and gotta chip Motorola
A hoochie babysitter with snitches by the stroller
Lyin, cryin, whinin', teasin'
Suckin' titties like I had years of breast feedin'
In the beginin' I was sinnin'
Kept my Mama back and forth
To the hospital for the constant kickin'
Kept them ass whippin', I'm gettin' them all
Show off like Fodolo, so fuck all y'all
Do you get your ass whipped wish your mom's bad luck?
Like ahuh you, you get hit by a truck
Playin' catch a girl, fuck a girl, put 'em in a sandwich
Just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Just a young boy doin' grown man shit
I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Like kickin' your ass
Yo, I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Smokin' weed
I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
All day, all night
Yo, I'm only thirteen puttin' in work
Rockin' Chinese shoes with high top converse but first
We was all gas watchin' 'Game Of Death' with Bruce
Walkin' home from the movies
Yo, I thought about the sex often
I even kept a heartland for the white girls on magic garden
Light skin, chubby and shit
Ran my Mama phone bill for callin' Biggs, Biggs, Biggs
The old hands used to make them little niggaz fight
The lead patch was the shit if you snitch it right
And everybody knew the pattern of Pac Man
Rams was fifteen and that then was happenin'
Niggaz used to get robbed at twin city
I was cuttin' on S L's glue with a penny
When E P M D dropped its my thing
I said, "Damn, I gotta get up in this rap game"
I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Yo yo, I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Like touchin' your titties
Yo, I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
I'm just a young boy doin' grown man shit
Like stealin' my Mama's car
I used to tell my sis' I'm gonna make it bitch
So close to gettin' on I could taste the shit
In a hot ass room cuttin' smooth operator
In my last year at west side high I barely made it
Flippin' eight balls, going to Montclair state
I passed one class and still owe their ass cake
For quick cash, doc hit up thirteenth ave
Sell white boys oregano dash then we laughed
That was the days now the times switched up
Son either walk them dogs, snuff it or get snuffed
Them ho's got triflin' but much thicker
My weed got better so easily I fucked shit up
I test y'all with my def squad cam
And I don't stage show dive unless y'all amp
To all my fans, "Yo! Arrivederci to you"
And any ho that didn't blow doc, I never knew you
Now I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Yo yo, now I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Like still sqeezin' your titties
I'm just a grown man doin' grown man's shit
With a big ass car
Yo, I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Rollin' better credit
Yo yo, I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Yo yo, shit is crazy
I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Like smackin' your ass
Yo, I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
Like shavin' my beard
Yo, I'm a grown man doin' grown man's shit
I got hair on my chest look at it
You can fuck my heart, you can plough my balls
You can [incomprehensible] [Incomprehensible]
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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