Intro Cellar Sounds Vol. 3: 1992-1998 by Nick Wiz Lyrics
Nick Wiz ft. U.G. - “Intro (Cellar Sounds Vol. 3: 1992-1998)”
[Emcee(s): U.G.]
[Producer(s): Nick Wiz]
[Additional Vocals: Nick Wiz]
[Hook: U.G.]
To my East Coast niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my West Coast niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my weed-smoking niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my ghetto-ass niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my blunt-rolling shorties (Come on! Come on!)
To my dimed-out pieces (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my thugged-out niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my willied-out niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my…
[Verse 1: U.G.]
Rick
Rude rap, rugged, raw rhymes wreck reels
Run through roadblocks in a Rolls Royce, spitting rounds from
A revolver, reckless, split direct, kid, ridiculous
Rip kids, sip, ripple, it’s R.R
Don’t give a rat’s ass. Peace to Ras Kass. Roll right past
And blast your ass like a drive-by, run amok
The next runner-up? Run your jewels, jump in swimming pools
Butt-ass skinny-dipping with a skinny chicken wearing a girdle
Hurdle, burst your line like Herschel Walker running from roof
To roof, trying to find one to throw you off of
I lost the love, I lost my dame, I lost my chain
I lost my brain, insane like Cypress, B-Real
Hold each steel with two hands, have sex with two fans
They’re both sisters, my notes crisper, hold my liquor
Pose in picture danger-less, deranged stranger spits mucus on your
Girl’s pubics, trying to tickle her uterus, not new to this
Fluent shit, ADR rhymes are beyond your time zones
I’m climbing stones like King Kong did, get the bong lit
And inhale
[Interlude: Nick Wiz]
Ayyo, son, son, that’s it, bruh! Shut it down, bruh! It’s over! Uh!
[Verse 2: U.G.]
Fuck y’all
Fronting-ass, fake, fugazi niggas, Feds and crazy niggas
Spray the eighty niggas, sex with eighty bitches, hex like Haiti bitches
Want the crazy riches, scriptures split your transistor
In a van with your sister…
[Emcee(s): U.G.]
[Producer(s): Nick Wiz]
[Additional Vocals: Nick Wiz]
[Hook: U.G.]
To my East Coast niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my West Coast niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my weed-smoking niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my ghetto-ass niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my blunt-rolling shorties (Come on! Come on!)
To my dimed-out pieces (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my thugged-out niggas (Come on! Come on!)
To my willied-out niggas (Come on! Give it to me!)
To my…
[Verse 1: U.G.]
Rick
Rude rap, rugged, raw rhymes wreck reels
Run through roadblocks in a Rolls Royce, spitting rounds from
A revolver, reckless, split direct, kid, ridiculous
Rip kids, sip, ripple, it’s R.R
Don’t give a rat’s ass. Peace to Ras Kass. Roll right past
And blast your ass like a drive-by, run amok
The next runner-up? Run your jewels, jump in swimming pools
Butt-ass skinny-dipping with a skinny chicken wearing a girdle
Hurdle, burst your line like Herschel Walker running from roof
To roof, trying to find one to throw you off of
I lost the love, I lost my dame, I lost my chain
I lost my brain, insane like Cypress, B-Real
Hold each steel with two hands, have sex with two fans
They’re both sisters, my notes crisper, hold my liquor
Pose in picture danger-less, deranged stranger spits mucus on your
Girl’s pubics, trying to tickle her uterus, not new to this
Fluent shit, ADR rhymes are beyond your time zones
I’m climbing stones like King Kong did, get the bong lit
And inhale
[Interlude: Nick Wiz]
Ayyo, son, son, that’s it, bruh! Shut it down, bruh! It’s over! Uh!
[Verse 2: U.G.]
Fuck y’all
Fronting-ass, fake, fugazi niggas, Feds and crazy niggas
Spray the eighty niggas, sex with eighty bitches, hex like Haiti bitches
Want the crazy riches, scriptures split your transistor
In a van with your sister…