Urban Legends Lyrics

Urban Legends lyrics

f/ Bugsy, Redman, Ol' Dirty Bastard



[Sample from 'Belly']

"Hey dog, there them fools go right there!"

  "Yeah, they-they rollin' hard too- They-they slangin' real good

   Real good"

 "I might have to drop 'em

  Might have to drop a dime on them niggas

  Know-what-I'm-sayin'? I don't like that shit

  I don't like that shit"



[Drunken Master]

"Throw it up

Throw it up, nigga

Wha-what-what?

Yo, y-yo, yo!"



Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Drunken Mast' about to get my money right

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right



I'm comin' through in the clutch like my name was Jerry West

wit' a belly full of brew and on my hip I got the Smif-n-West

("What 'chu doin'?") Ballin' as I mash through these city streets

Still fifty niggaz deep, packin' heat! ("What 'chu ridin'?")

'99, chrome kitted Escalade ("What 'chu doin'?")

Gettin' paid, ready to blast you in your bald fade ("What you
called?")

Urban legend, situation sticky

Fuck you niggas if you niggas ain't wit' me ("Where you goin'?")

To the bank then I'm headed to 'Lac ("Why?")

To blaze a sack wit' them niggas who got my back ("Who is that?")

Cheddar chasers, them B-T-T's ("And what they doin'?")

Makin' G's wit' they mind on they chedda cheese ("And what you
got?")

Extra clips for them playa hatin' snitches ("Why they hatin'?")

'Cause Drunken Master's on the road to the riches ("What you gon'
do?")

Rush they spot and give 'em two to the dome ("Why?")

'Cause Daddy's home, about to get my grind on



Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right



[Bugsy]

You wanna bring the ruckus? Fuck it, then we can

If you's a G nigga, then I'm at least a hunded grand

Damn- That's a whole lot missin'

and what's this 'bout a competiton wit' all this bullshit you pissin'

in the ocean? Damn, your little ass really must be smokin'

Hopin' that I won't say that much and hit you wit' the camal clutch

Nah, what the fuck? I'm on some ill shit for real

and talkin' to me like that, nigga, 'll get your family killed

But you will probably squeel and say it was me who pulled the trigga

and I'll have to lie and blame it on one of your hoe-ass niggas, like

they was smokin' Swishers when I stepped on the scene- This

one nigga looked mean and stuck me up for all my green

And all I seen was you bust up wit' the gun

and all I did was run to the phone and call 9-1-1

And by the time I'm done, nigga, you be deep up in some shit

and I'll be somewhere, nigga, deep up in your bitch

So before you pick the wrong fat nigga to fuck wit',

you better call your clique up,

y'all niggas is plannin' some tough shit

Some mo' rough shit, some mo' thirty-eight snuff shit

But I'ma bust shit like 'Back the fuck up, you dumb bitch!'

Not one clique? You better be for real

That's like bein' blindfolded in the middle of a mine field

Now y'all chill and we can make it pop

Urban legends, nigga, holla at me when the album drops



[Drunken Master]

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and my nigga Bugs about to get our money right

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right



[Redman]

Yo, yo, yo

Yo, stomp wit the big dogs! Sick dogs lurkin'

Doc Bradshaw behind ball plant and steel curtains

Denver Bronco fan, glock squirtin'

Brick city, steerin' wheel hurtin'

Prepare y'all fast cars for lane mergin'

Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana, cock block into gramma

Got cock in Atlanta,

rockin' P.P.P. Bandanas while we fuck 'em on camera

It be too late to plant bait for my clique to fall

We plant boobie-traps and pit-falls and thick fog

When I tee, L.A. rock- It's yours!

Websites couldnn't find a force wit' Macintosh

on John Walsh- America's Most,

aimin' for spots to put more than a tear in ya coat

I back more hoes than Coach- Thanksgivin', Doc,

the forty-second street float wit' most hip-hop folks

I'm unemployed wit' courderoy gloves

Through the voice di-rectly to chest, knock ya down like The Waterboy

Me and Meth-Tical, PLURAL!

We rob everything and set on mag ZER-O!

Mothafuckas feel me- Top of the line,

feel me- Knock the Soul Train off the track

and I'm milky like titties and Similac

when I ask you 'Bring it on back'!



[Drunken Master]

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right

Live from the 3-1-3, D-R-E,

world-wide, international, V.I.P.

Urban legends creepin' like a thief through the night

Me and Funk Doc, about to get our money right



[Redman]

"So don't test me and my man Drunken Master

Put one in your ass faster

And I'ma drop wit' my man

Brick City, 'cause we all kickin' ass 'til niggas' shitty

Yeah, Young Zee and everybody run, dog

Brick City, holdin' it down

Don't like it, get you some balls

And my man Chris Webber gettin' smoked the fuck out, FUCK Y'ALL!"



[Music stops to Ol' Dirty Bastard talking on a phone]

"Yo. Yo, check this shit out, man

It's the Dirt Dog, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'?

Keepin' it real, man, you-know-what-I'm-sayin'?

Dirty don't give a fuck about nobody, know-what-I'm-sayin'?

Only roll wit' REAL niggas, know-what-I'm-sayin'?

All them faggot-ass niggas that wanna keep playin' that shit,

keep playin' that song?!

Let me tell you somethin' 'bout my real nigga, the Drunken Master

Niggas get busy

Niggas get busy for one cause!

EVERYBODY ELSE CAN SUCK MY MOTHAFUCKIN' DICK!"