Drop That b*tch lyrics

[Chorus]
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch

[Verse 1: Kurupt]
In that muthaf*cka hanging
And she forever be singing
With that thing in the back
Make it backtrack, look up
It’s somewhat banging
When I pull up and bang that track
In the four
And it ain’t no stopping the show
L.A metropolis so
There just ain’t no stoppin’ when I hit that
Bomb head in my car
Got that bomb weed in my drawer
Got them bomb seeds in my garden
Valley Girl, Dolly Parton
If that sh*t don’t be poppin’
Got them dope fiends in Compton
Got my n*ggas rose and my b*tches tho
These mothaf*ckas keep poppin’ molly
Broccoli in my pocket's pocket
Oxys and my pocket's brolic
Smoking heavy in my Impala chevy parking and
It's that gangsta instrumental
Original indo
For the hoes in sexy clothes
They n*gga never touched the bank roll
Lemme get that
[Chorus]
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch

[Verse 2: Schoolboy Q]
Ugly n*gga with a gang of b*tches
Hoover street nifty-fifty business
In my b*tch whip with my L suspended
Big Pimpin’ misleading women
Extra innings being good at pitching
Blue khakis I’m locced out
Got naked hoes in a dope house
Put them hoes on a DVD
Show them hoes what this 'pimp bout
I’m pill poppin’
Feds is watchin’
I hopped the fence I don’t need Cochran
Clapped the DUI but my gun loaded
If my men made it then my men sold it
If the sun shine and that b*tch [know it]?
Come holla at your young scholar
I’m top dog I’m Rottweiler
I gangbang and I spit lava
I drink brews and I make moves
I went so hard for these new shoes
I go so deep in her vocals
I lay it down on this Pro Tool
I'm real n*gga, you so full
World tours, and you local
All you say this sh*t on the menu
Give me large fries and I’ll be cool
Put your hands down by your ankles
Make it clap for me for this bank roll
I’ll gladly poke on that pink hole
Front to leaves I'm straight backwoods
Hit my weed and I own you baby
Might buy you something, that head good
Now let me pinch on that donkey lady
[Chorus]
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch
Drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch, drop that b*tch

[Verse 3: Problem]
Whaaat
[just a beggar?] though
Kurt Angle way I play the rings
Chains on, the fames on
But I’m still good with that bada bing boy (what)
My foreign chicks love coming to America (what)
They go back like I never thought a problem with having me coming from America (what)
Blast off I smash off like vroom vroom
With a b*tch as easy as Blues Clues
Dirty flow need two brooms
Diamond Lane everything
We hitting everything
Like we were juicing minute maid
Knock it out the park another homerun
Need I run home
Cali mind, play with mine n*gga run home
Why you on the phone line while these n*ggas jump you
(What fool?) f*ck you
No it isn't ever like that
But you saying that so you kinda make a n*gga want to
Me off the wee-little
b*tch, I'mma bump
Then I'll f*ck
Then I'll pump
[With a key full of pumps]?
I'm [up and]? off to the next
Compton the home of the chrome to your neck
f*ck all that, f*ck all that
n*ggas tryna turn up one more time
n*ggas thought I was done with the rapping
f*ck that I need one more line
Nick where you at? roll some more 5's
sh*t to fly won't pass that up
Diamond lane gang
Diamond lane gang
Problem, Casha, and Bad Lucc
[Verse 4: Bad Lucc]
Hold up bruh don't forget the lucky
4 finger ring cause the squad is [rusty?]
Square can't touch me
Homicide on the track made [musty?]
Town aboriginal
Rap [?] like a field goal
I'mma show you where a mill go
Knocked out I still go
Hand me that jack uhh
Hit him with the right-left uhh
I'll plate none
You get the plat plat on
Send him on his ass like uh
Where you n*ggas from
With my crazy lady
Your baby momma look like she made to pay me
Shady baby
Spend a bank roll on the aces baby
You ain't getting money
Hey you crazy, lady
Bad luck with it I go
Fat n*gga lookin like a billion I know
Rap n*gga wanna bust head on the low
You rather take a train into a shower of snow
f*cking with your broad metals spitting about an o
I don't wanna keep it you can get it from the show
Feeling hella good, i'm just doing what i know
Gotta king open up your head full of dough
100 shots of that fireball
My hood got it covered like firewall
If a n*gga bleep twice, then I'm lining y'all
But since you can't see my face, I'm not lying to y'all
Start the beef and I push the line
Diamond Lane, I'm from a different kind
I do what I want, n*gga f*ck the next line