Chorus: 
I got one mo switch I can hit 
I got one mo bullet in my clip 
I got one mo drink I can steal 
I got one mo sack I can twist 
Verse 1, Coolio: 
I wear a "S" on my chest 
I prefer my vest 
And if the chronic run out, loc, pass the stress 
Cause all I wanna do is just roll my things 
Turn up the alphine and let the woofers bang bang 
To the boogie say up jump the boogie 
He was tryin' to get a grip on my cookies 
I shook thee 
I coulda took him, but he wadn't even worth a bullet 
I had my finger on the trigger, but I couldn't pull it 
From defamation to desimation 
Every day is like summer vacation 
A nigga couldn't wait for somethin good to put in yo Kenwood 
Turn it up to twenty-one, and bop it in your hood 
I'm a eastside nigga (Nigga) 
Gotta have sprilla (Sprilla) 
Do or die, low down, real life killa (Killa) 
They comin' through the hold on tip toe 
You swear, so 
I gotta get your grip, hoe 

Chorus 

Verse 2, 40 Thevz (Lek Ratt, P.S.): 
Yes, yes, y'all (Yes y'all) 
40 Thevz in the house, with a fifth y'all (Fifth y'all) 
Better recognize a tennis shoe pimp, y'all (Pimp y'all) 
When I'm rollin' through your hood in my six, ohhhh, that be you 
When our four colors rock, front and ass out 
All the riders shake and smile when they see me hit the block 
Your sounds ain't beatin 
So your girls ain't freakin 
Watch your fly, got the whole post meetin 
Hit 'em in their eyes 
And go suicides 
Later, pump them on the ground just to show 'em what it's like 
To hit the mic for a licken 
Hell no, I ain't trippin 
Cause I kinda like pimpin 
Bein' freer than a pigeon 
Got your bitch down in positions 
All kinda ways 
40 Thevz pimpin these suckas till they graze 
So, come with these weak flows if you must 
But I got a hundred and twenty-one mo rounds I can bust 

Chorus 

Verse 3, Coolio: 
Put the pep in yo step and the glide in your stride 
Like Clyde 
Drexler, this is eastside 
Westa, recognize the routine 
Mo jackers and packers than the Super Bowl ring team 
So, why you tellin me to sell a key of yayo 
That's how you give a fellow need like Jayo 
We lay low 
All up in the cut 
If it's suicide then roll the bustas up 
And I'ma hit 'em up like uppercut 
Better shuffle yo feet like double dutch 
Now the party didn't start til I walked in 
And it probably wont end til I sip Hen 
But in the meantime 
And in between time 
Better tuck in your chin 
And learn to take your lumps and grin 
You know you can't wait cause I'ma stay on one 
One switch, one sack, one sip, but I ain't done 

Chorus, Repeat 4X