Somethin’ 4 Tha Mood DJ Quik
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Somethin’ 4 Tha Mood" by DJ Quik. 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: DJ Quik]
This one goes out to my niggas
'Cause we be havin' to deal with these punk ass bitches
Check this out
[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
Hey bitch, you remember me
It's Mista DJ Quik from the Westside of the Tree
And you met me at 2001 Browning
That's where me and the PPC were just clownin'
Doin' what we had to do to get by
No money in my pocket but I was still fly
Curl to my neck but I got respect
And now I stack fat sacks and ride around in a Lex
And oh my, bitch, how you've changed
I see you rubbin' all on my dick and it's feelin' kinda strange
'Cause then you wouldn't even walk me around the block
But now your tryin' to throw me that tore up cock
I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole
I gots to keep the P in it, baby, muthafuck you hoes
But open up wide if you givin' up head
Because, close mouths don't get fed
I'm talking to you punk ass, trick ass, nuttin' ass bitches
What's the name of your perfume, "Fishes"?
Hoes ain't shit, ain't gon' be, ain't never will be
And I'ma make you feel bad that you fucked me
So fast-forward, tricks, this is strictly for my dogs
Ballin' like a muthafucka, ragtop hogs
And El Co's keep rollin' to this gangsta shit
And when I feel like being bothered with you bitches
I'm givin' ya..
This one goes out to my niggas
'Cause we be havin' to deal with these punk ass bitches
Check this out
[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
Hey bitch, you remember me
It's Mista DJ Quik from the Westside of the Tree
And you met me at 2001 Browning
That's where me and the PPC were just clownin'
Doin' what we had to do to get by
No money in my pocket but I was still fly
Curl to my neck but I got respect
And now I stack fat sacks and ride around in a Lex
And oh my, bitch, how you've changed
I see you rubbin' all on my dick and it's feelin' kinda strange
'Cause then you wouldn't even walk me around the block
But now your tryin' to throw me that tore up cock
I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole
I gots to keep the P in it, baby, muthafuck you hoes
But open up wide if you givin' up head
Because, close mouths don't get fed
I'm talking to you punk ass, trick ass, nuttin' ass bitches
What's the name of your perfume, "Fishes"?
Hoes ain't shit, ain't gon' be, ain't never will be
And I'ma make you feel bad that you fucked me
So fast-forward, tricks, this is strictly for my dogs
Ballin' like a muthafucka, ragtop hogs
And El Co's keep rollin' to this gangsta shit
And when I feel like being bothered with you bitches
I'm givin' ya..
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