Yukmouth Nothin 2 a Bo$$ Lyrics:
Yukmouth – Nothin 2 A Bo$$ Haha... I can't
believe you niggas. You can't be serious. You
really thought since 'Pac died the West coast fell
the fuck off, huh? You thought since Dre ain't
made a album, we flopped? Fuck that shit nigga!
Rap-A-Lot for life nigga! Yukmouth nigga! West
Coast don nigga! What's wit it punk?! It's nuthin
to a boss nigga! We been ridin on dubb's that spin
nigga! We been poppin bottles, nigga, since 'Pac
was alive nigga. The West Coast is back you faggot
ass fucks! I'm from the West Coast and never-ever
crip-walk. I'm like the Bird Man, platinum grill,
big cross an I'm tryin to sell a few mill like
Kris Kross. I'm ultra cocky, tell a chicken get
lost. Diss the boss an get ya lips ripped off. I
let clips off, ya whole click soft. What you know
about a hundred on a wrist watch. Twenty on ya
chicks watch, loungin Gucci flip flops, and I bang
in the club like Rick Rock. Yuk show you how to
rock that real thug hip-hop. They ride lo-lo's,
Yukmouth flip drops off the floor every year is a
whip hop. Menage-a-trios all year if ya chick
jock. With ten karats in my ear like a big shot.
Godzilla get the scrilla like Chris Rock, an I'ma
bring the West back when my shit drop.

To roll around on 24's. Wit plenty millions in a
vouge. Everything a nigga want. It's nothin 2 a
boss! So much ice a nigga froze custom rides wit
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3-1-0's. Until I die it's all West coast, it's
nothin big to a boss!

Yeah... if you gon' do it, do it right. I'm in the
blue and white. Rally striped Vipe leavin Peanuts
wit a crew of dykes. Tuesday night I got my game
together. I'm dangerous fella, my rims spin like
plane propellers. an I'm down wit Prince James
forever. Rap-A-Lot fo' lia. Yukmouth, Scarface an
Tela, and ya'll know Yuk is off the meter. For all
you non-believers, I spark the heater. I'm what
you call a block leader. Why you hatin? I roll
through ya radio station wit Gary Payton. In a
franchise Lac outside on cherry Dayton's. An rock
the new blue Burberry, make every nation feel the
thug vibration, uh. My cars talk back like Michael
Knight. I got a hundred on a Roy Jones and Tyson
fight. You wanna roll wit baller, well tonight's
ya night. I rock ice cause the price is right.
Step it up hater. Yeah CHORUS Every day I'm poppin
a bottle, and poppin a tag. Fourty G's in a Gucci
bag, I'm coppin a Jag. Two-hundred G's in a Louie
bag, I'm coppin a pad, wit the dragon shaped tool
in the bag. What you know about that?! What you
know about chronic an Hypnotic, coppin
Lamborghini's from 3-1-0 an Simbalic. Drop stretch
Hummers, twenty-four inch rims on it. ??? skin
interior wit the suede trim on it, wait! I came in
the game wit mobsta tales. I hit Mr. Chow's for
meals, crack lobster tails. At the mall wit a
model who only buys Chanelle. You wish I fell, but
I prevail, Yukmouth is ill. I rock the 'Wheels of
Fortune' like Pat Sajack. In a black Maybach, I'm
tryin to bring the Bay back in a A's throw back
and a A's hat. Yuk a beast, and bleach couldn't
fade that! What?! CHORUS
Lyrics: Nothin 2 a Bo$$, Yukmouth [end]