Geto Baseball by Proper Dos Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Running down the street, chasing a sucka
In my hand, I got the Louisville slugger
Caught up to the muthafucker and start to have fun
Swinging on his ass, like I was trying to hit a home run (bam)
He got his muthafucking face split
Now you can chuck that up as a base hit
And his homie came 3 deep and I said damn
So what you do?
I hit a muthafucking grand slam, till one foo pulled a .38
So now I’m running my ass off, trying to get to home plate
Seen a umpire and ducked out of sight
Cause that muthafucker will try to give me a third strike
And send me back to the dugout
And I’ll be calling my mom collect, trying to get the fuck out
But I’ll be damned if I take the fall
Caught up in the mix playing ghetto baseball
[Verse 2]
Now I’m west bound on Pico
I’ve seen some members of my team rolling in a regal
Cracked the top of that champagne, ahh
We won another game
Should’ve been down, told you that in my last rhyme
Now ghetto baseball is my favorite pastime
If you think I’m lying and you try to play me dumb
Bring your stupid ass on down to the stadium
But before you come, you better check the stats
And it’s on for them foos that want a rematch
Going off like we’re trying to win the pennant
Bring that ass down and my foot will be up in it
And then I’ll ask whose next?
Swinging like the babe putting foos on the deck
So when you come punk, you better come strapped
Cause the muthafucking Mexican is up at bat
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
[Verse 3]
You putos don’t know me that good
If you don’t know, that I can swing a bat good
You would think I was a good friend of Casey
I’m standing on the plate but them putos won’t face me
Cause they know I do damage, they know I’m a savage
And they know my batting average, ain’t nothing nice bitch
You punk muthafuckers better stop and think twice
Before you fuck with the west side crook
Especially when I took what I took
Because I think I’m hallucinating soldier
Cause all I see is a baseball on top of your shoulders
So I’m loccing up choking up, on the bat
Swinging another punk lays flat
It’s like that for no reason
You foos better try to come back next season
And don’t expect us to go on strike
Cause we’ll be some ghetto baseball playing muthafuckers, for life
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up
Running down the street, chasing a sucka
In my hand, I got the Louisville slugger
Caught up to the muthafucker and start to have fun
Swinging on his ass, like I was trying to hit a home run (bam)
He got his muthafucking face split
Now you can chuck that up as a base hit
And his homie came 3 deep and I said damn
So what you do?
I hit a muthafucking grand slam, till one foo pulled a .38
So now I’m running my ass off, trying to get to home plate
Seen a umpire and ducked out of sight
Cause that muthafucker will try to give me a third strike
And send me back to the dugout
And I’ll be calling my mom collect, trying to get the fuck out
But I’ll be damned if I take the fall
Caught up in the mix playing ghetto baseball
[Verse 2]
Now I’m west bound on Pico
I’ve seen some members of my team rolling in a regal
Cracked the top of that champagne, ahh
We won another game
Should’ve been down, told you that in my last rhyme
Now ghetto baseball is my favorite pastime
If you think I’m lying and you try to play me dumb
Bring your stupid ass on down to the stadium
But before you come, you better check the stats
And it’s on for them foos that want a rematch
Going off like we’re trying to win the pennant
Bring that ass down and my foot will be up in it
And then I’ll ask whose next?
Swinging like the babe putting foos on the deck
So when you come punk, you better come strapped
Cause the muthafucking Mexican is up at bat
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
[Verse 3]
You putos don’t know me that good
If you don’t know, that I can swing a bat good
You would think I was a good friend of Casey
I’m standing on the plate but them putos won’t face me
Cause they know I do damage, they know I’m a savage
And they know my batting average, ain’t nothing nice bitch
You punk muthafuckers better stop and think twice
Before you fuck with the west side crook
Especially when I took what I took
Because I think I’m hallucinating soldier
Cause all I see is a baseball on top of your shoulders
So I’m loccing up choking up, on the bat
Swinging another punk lays flat
It’s like that for no reason
You foos better try to come back next season
And don’t expect us to go on strike
Cause we’ll be some ghetto baseball playing muthafuckers, for life
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up
Sho getting rough out here
They batter up