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Bouncin’ Down the Strezeet
Ice‐T
Popularity · Low
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🇬🇧 English · Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yeah, Ice-T up in here boy
Got my man Hot Dolla in the house
You know what I'm sayin'?
J.E.L., Rhyme Poetic Mafia up in here
Got Mr. Westside in the place
You know what I'm sayin'?
Straight lace hustlers in the house
Yo Westside, tell 'em how you do it baby
Crankin' up my Alpine
18 Inch Fosgates pumpin' jealous niggas on my mind
It's my cash, my dollars, my paper
Just hit the lick now suckas wanna pull capers
What you think all my gats is for?
But ain't got no Rottweilers by the door
Bring your ass on in, friend
Been countin' my currency
Feel froggish leap out of the blue
Twenty, mag 90's, mind on my money
Still tryin' to fuck that bitch Shaniqua
Out of the valley cause I used to love ya
My bunny is actin' funny, but fuck you, biatch
Bouncin' on these bitches like 18 switches
Side to side, front, three wheel motion
Sudanville slidin' like lotion
Out of the Central
Up into the hills with my kin
Niggas gon' be bouncin' down the streazy
To the speezy, with the heezy under the seezy
With your dome or money rolls
Money rolls on your dome, movin' on chrome and gold D's
Nigga I can't lose as I ooze up and down these tracks
Cause the booze has got me feelin' like a rat pack in a killin'
To the ceilin' with my high, I flies in no direction
From the Redline Comp-Town section, I'm feared for my complexion
I'm feared for my erection so they put me in corrections
And try to neglect the fact I'm trapped in my existence
But even from a thousand yard distance
I'm seein' right through ya with that mad dog glance
With that gangsta stance and with them saggin' pants
Come take a chance
Would you like to dance in the infrared trip light?
Un-asked and punished folks and don't make me go
It's Hotz to the Dolla, baby ain't no joke
And plus my bank's on broke, so I gots to make a statement
I'm on my third strike, I'm rollin' on a bike
I'm askin' all y'all niggas what that Comp-Town like
Before I gots to pull five for the day ride
Niggas gon' be bouncin' down the streazy
To the speezy, with the heezy under the seezy
With your dome or money rolls
Money rolls on your dome, movin' on chrome and gold D's
Man the eses rollin' shit I know what's up
I'm cold hittin' back streets and rippin' gangsta cuts
Oh yes, I floss daily, fuck I represent
And straight showcase my G's on the hot cement
And, I'll tell ya killer Cali ain't no joke
Cause the smog on the West Coast is indo smoke
So don't slip for a sec or get played like a ho
Ohhh, don't make me bust in Bronson mode
I unfold mad lingo makin' mass appeal
And you can ask anybody if my clique pack steel
Cause no matter where I flow brothers pay the cost
That's why they're gonna tell you that I can't be tossed
Man you're gettin' on my nerves and gettin' on my skin
But you can't win, listen to the Mexican
So don't talk about me cause I'll work you son
But the crazy thing about it I won't need my gun
Niggas gon' be bouncin' down the streazy
To the speezy, with the heezy under the seezy
With your dome or money rolls
Money rolls on your dome, movin' on chrome and gold D's
Bustas can't even see the ice as I flexes
You couldn't afford the Benz so you had to buy the Lexus
But hot Impalas are the things that I ride
On the weekend, lock it up, watch my custom drive shaft
Benz square dumps in my trunk, lick it once
Watch my front end fly as I skate on by
On them 520's money titanium scrape plates
Drop the ass light your block up sho' nuff
I got the Q-trunk hookup with four pumps in the middle
Hit your corner lookin' like a damn tricycle
Hit the pancake, let the butter lay on the ground
And get on out the ride and clown
With my homies on the corner in South Central California
You couldn't get more real if you wanna
I'm gonna let you know that when I rolls it's on triple golds
Front seat for my homies, back seat for the hoes
Niggas gon' be bouncin' down the streazy
To the speezy, with the heezy under the seezy
With your dome or money rolls
Money rolls on your dome, movin' on chrome and gold D's