[Intro: Dave Rockin' Reel, Roz Noble & Redman]
Possibly a lot of rain this afternoon, with thunderstorms, highs in the mid eighties and lows about seventy-five degrees
It's 11:30 a.m. on WFDS, We're From the Darkside Radio
This is Dave Rockin' Reel, as we take a caller
Caller, you're on the air
Yeah, yeah, yeah, and this is Roz from Newark and I wanna hear that tune by Redman, "Can't Wait", that tune the bomb, yo
You got it, coming from The Darkside Radio, this is "Can't Wait"
Woo, yo, yo, yo, comin' to you live
Smokin' mad Phillies with my niggas from the Hoodaville section
And all my niggas from the Weequahic section, word is bond
Somebody said Jamaica, Queens in this motherfucker
I don't give a fuck, we gon' set it off like this
Jersey in the fuckin hid-ouse, for your mid-outh
[Verse 1: Redman]
I'm like rah-rah, like I had cerebral palsy
My flows be's wet like all you girls' drawers be
Crack the Phill's, spread the buddha then the hiddash
Roll it up and then ask, "Who chipped in for the ten bag?"
Et cetera, I roll my blunts with two textures
Pick up fifty bags and then I smoke all the extras
It's the truth, like vodk' one-eighty proof
Don't drop your drawers, I'll fuck through your daisy dukes (True)
Put your fingers up in the air if you're high (High)
I walk by (By), so f' a drive (Drive)
I swing up in it, batting average is half as
Good as Reggie Jackson's, that's why you talk backwards
And, uh, chumps be on some Bogart shit like Humphrey
You couldn't beat me if you ran with 21 Jump Street
Or 90210, fuck it, yo
In the movies I'm the nigga puffin' buddha in the back row
Possibly a lot of rain this afternoon, with thunderstorms, highs in the mid eighties and lows about seventy-five degrees
It's 11:30 a.m. on WFDS, We're From the Darkside Radio
This is Dave Rockin' Reel, as we take a caller
Caller, you're on the air
Yeah, yeah, yeah, and this is Roz from Newark and I wanna hear that tune by Redman, "Can't Wait", that tune the bomb, yo
You got it, coming from The Darkside Radio, this is "Can't Wait"
Woo, yo, yo, yo, comin' to you live
Smokin' mad Phillies with my niggas from the Hoodaville section
And all my niggas from the Weequahic section, word is bond
Somebody said Jamaica, Queens in this motherfucker
I don't give a fuck, we gon' set it off like this
Jersey in the fuckin hid-ouse, for your mid-outh
[Verse 1: Redman]
I'm like rah-rah, like I had cerebral palsy
My flows be's wet like all you girls' drawers be
Crack the Phill's, spread the buddha then the hiddash
Roll it up and then ask, "Who chipped in for the ten bag?"
Et cetera, I roll my blunts with two textures
Pick up fifty bags and then I smoke all the extras
It's the truth, like vodk' one-eighty proof
Don't drop your drawers, I'll fuck through your daisy dukes (True)
Put your fingers up in the air if you're high (High)
I walk by (By), so f' a drive (Drive)
I swing up in it, batting average is half as
Good as Reggie Jackson's, that's why you talk backwards
And, uh, chumps be on some Bogart shit like Humphrey
You couldn't beat me if you ran with 21 Jump Street
Or 90210, fuck it, yo
In the movies I'm the nigga puffin' buddha in the back row
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