Bobble Heads lyrics

Andre Nickatina - Bobble Heads (ft. Black C)

[Verse 1: Black C]
Call me a psycho cus I just might go
Shoot up ya block cus you’re walkin' on a tight-rope
Plus I'm off that nitro, yea that’s that loud pack
We don’t smoke bammer so its best that you fall back
San Francisco ball cat, you’re f*ckin with a Giant
Ya n*ggas say ya real but the real is ya lyin
(???) is what I don’t do, real is what I live by
f*ck whatcha goin' through if you're tryna (tempt?) mine
Im tryna get mine ballin f*ck getting by
You suckas hatin' cus you fallin' like a zipline
While I sip wine with a thick b*tch with thick thighs
Small waist pretty face, tryna get high
She said she like real n*ggas, no farce
But you’re b*tchmade actin worse than these broads
Goin' through they menstral, all up in ya mental
Just like a b*tch ya keep di*k up in ya dental
Damn

[Hook - Andre Nickatina]
It’s the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I’ll never fold
c*ck, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs , pull out ya gold
Don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail
[Verse 2: Black C]
You can hip, hop on the muthaf*ckin' jock
Im an RBL n*gga getting money 'round the clock
And these b*tches don’t stop when it comes to this black n*gga
In the Bay, I'm a legendary rap figure
Plus a cap pealer, homie thats a fat n*gga
You're not loyal to the soil you's a rat n*gga
And I'm a real one, the last of a dying breed
Im off kush muhf*ckah you smoke bammer weed
I f*ck with top notch b*tches in that Prada wear
You f*ck with low budget b*tches with them bobble heads
Yea, you n*ggas strictly sickly
For real, you n*ggas can't get with me
And you can believe it or not like Ripleys
Ya boy been an underground king like Pimp C
Or like Mac Dre, or like Mr. C
I go hard on a b*tch, no sympathy

[Hook: Andre Nickatina]
It’s the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I’ll never fold
c*ck, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs , pull out ya gold
Don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail
[Verse 3: Andre Nickatina]
You say oh god cus im givin' you hell
Leather jacket, adidas with them shells
You can miss me like a stray bullet
Gary Coleman on ya ass with a new Qillis
Sheeit, God-Khan but I’m still a capo
I let the weed hit me while Jimi Hendrix sang Sand Castles
I dip through the big pineapple
And if you see me real quick its something like an eye sample

[Hook: Andre Nickatina]
It’s the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I’ll never fold
c*ck, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs , pull out ya gold
Don’t tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail