Played Like a Piano (West Coast Classics Radio) King T (Ft. Ice Cube & MC Breeze)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Played Like a Piano (West Coast Classics Radio)" by King T (Ft. Ice Cube & MC Breeze). 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: King Tee]
King Tee's drunk again
Yo, check this out! Awww shit, aw shit
I wanna dedicate this song
To all them motherfuckers out there
That-that-that-that-that-that-that (not again)
Perpentratin'… perpetratin'… perpintratin'… wait, rewind
(But yo, King Tee, man, what is this? What is this?)
[Verse 1: King Tee]
Some cool shit for the King's anthology
And when I'm done, don't expect no apology
Stupid motherfucker shoulda stepped when I warned him
I'm from the Boondocks of Compton, California
I'm just anxious to whoop some ass
I went to high school, but I flunked every class
So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect?
I'll put your bitch in check, and I'll bet
You won't run up, son of a punk and a bitch, too
I shoulda did a drive-by on you and your crew
'Cause y'all be poppin' some shit that's unheard of
For you, what's the word? Uh… (wack!) — it's murder
Son, when I be crushin' your hood with a passion
And I ain't talkin' that Action Jackson
When I come, you better run for ammo
Or get played like a fuckin' piano
King Tee's drunk again
Yo, check this out! Awww shit, aw shit
I wanna dedicate this song
To all them motherfuckers out there
That-that-that-that-that-that-that (not again)
Perpentratin'… perpetratin'… perpintratin'… wait, rewind
(But yo, King Tee, man, what is this? What is this?)
[Verse 1: King Tee]
Some cool shit for the King's anthology
And when I'm done, don't expect no apology
Stupid motherfucker shoulda stepped when I warned him
I'm from the Boondocks of Compton, California
I'm just anxious to whoop some ass
I went to high school, but I flunked every class
So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect?
I'll put your bitch in check, and I'll bet
You won't run up, son of a punk and a bitch, too
I shoulda did a drive-by on you and your crew
'Cause y'all be poppin' some shit that's unheard of
For you, what's the word? Uh… (wack!) — it's murder
Son, when I be crushin' your hood with a passion
And I ain't talkin' that Action Jackson
When I come, you better run for ammo
Or get played like a fuckin' piano
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