Cool J Roy Woods
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Cool J" by Roy Woods. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro]
I was keyed when I came here, it's not gon' be my fuckin' play (Ayy)
Ah, what I tell you? What I tell you? What I tell you?
Always how it is (I'm sayin'), Ayy, KBeaZy, you fired up
[Chorus]
I been goin' everywhere he can't go (Can't go, nigga)
Cool J, nigga, with the Kangol
I been hittin' pussy from an angle (Oh yeah)
Feel like Peso Peso with these pesos, ahh (Peso, peso, peso, peso)
[Verse 1]
Crodie brought the K, these niggas scared off (Cronem)
I'ma mash up the pussy like potatoes (Mash it up)
And the feds ain't on 'em 'cause they paid off, yeah (Paid)
Call that nigga Joe, he a traitor (Uh-huh)
Got his bitch up in my bed and she laid up, yeah (Uh-huh)
Had to switch to LA like the Oakland Raiders (Yeah, I switch it up)
Call a rasta from Jamaica let him air it out (Rasta mon, rasta mon)
I ain't into hearing stories that they made up (Nah, nah, nigga)
Money coming in the mail without a pay stub (Money coming in)
There's college bitches in the party like the Sugar Bowl
Her mama's getting fucked up like it's the Super Bowl (She a MILF)
These diamonds dancing on my neck, I got the winner's gold (Damn, damn)
[Refrain]
We ain't talking paper when we talking magazines
Rock star status but not no Adam Levine
Rolling like some tires when I'm rolling off a bean
Pops was a hustler, I got hustle in my genes
I was keyed when I came here, it's not gon' be my fuckin' play (Ayy)
Ah, what I tell you? What I tell you? What I tell you?
Always how it is (I'm sayin'), Ayy, KBeaZy, you fired up
[Chorus]
I been goin' everywhere he can't go (Can't go, nigga)
Cool J, nigga, with the Kangol
I been hittin' pussy from an angle (Oh yeah)
Feel like Peso Peso with these pesos, ahh (Peso, peso, peso, peso)
[Verse 1]
Crodie brought the K, these niggas scared off (Cronem)
I'ma mash up the pussy like potatoes (Mash it up)
And the feds ain't on 'em 'cause they paid off, yeah (Paid)
Call that nigga Joe, he a traitor (Uh-huh)
Got his bitch up in my bed and she laid up, yeah (Uh-huh)
Had to switch to LA like the Oakland Raiders (Yeah, I switch it up)
Call a rasta from Jamaica let him air it out (Rasta mon, rasta mon)
I ain't into hearing stories that they made up (Nah, nah, nigga)
Money coming in the mail without a pay stub (Money coming in)
There's college bitches in the party like the Sugar Bowl
Her mama's getting fucked up like it's the Super Bowl (She a MILF)
These diamonds dancing on my neck, I got the winner's gold (Damn, damn)
[Refrain]
We ain't talking paper when we talking magazines
Rock star status but not no Adam Levine
Rolling like some tires when I'm rolling off a bean
Pops was a hustler, I got hustle in my genes
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