Throw Back Muzic ’86 Kurupt
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Throw Back Muzic ’86" by Kurupt. 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]
Yeah, Kurupt Young Gotti, Rider Redemption. Hey Mark, let's take them back in the days, to the real G shit, let's make it back!
[Chorus]
'86 golf pads, cocoa sacks, single sacks, nickel sacks, rumble packs, switching back, gunshot!
Throw back music, that throw back music!
Gangster roll [?], R eight sevens, two elevens, one eight sevens, five point o mustang
Throw back music, that throw back music!
[Verse 1]
Yeah, back in the day, you can remember
Young dumb and full of cum
Horseman, full shades, John Mere [?] bong
Used to live life with no fear
Fresh faced niggers getting thrown off the fence
[?] trucks motherfucker! Ever get jacked with a truck, motherfucker?
Crenshaw, Sunday nights was on deck
[?] the homies had curls and combs
The homies used to meet up on Mount Vern
D's [?] push that Y
Riders die, homicide
Triple and double, with the hood to get under
It was all about fellas, banging with straight
And then came K's, and then spray paints
And when K spread, everything stopped!
This was after the 9, and before the Glock
Girls had [?] braids so, so thick
You know we used to flip
Suzuki side kicks
Crack hit the hood, watch us work this game
S curls, K Swiss, Turkish chains
You had to pick a side to ride, rider
Dark blue khakis, black, green or flamed
Purple or dark brown, I tell you the reals!
Yeah, Kurupt Young Gotti, Rider Redemption. Hey Mark, let's take them back in the days, to the real G shit, let's make it back!
[Chorus]
'86 golf pads, cocoa sacks, single sacks, nickel sacks, rumble packs, switching back, gunshot!
Throw back music, that throw back music!
Gangster roll [?], R eight sevens, two elevens, one eight sevens, five point o mustang
Throw back music, that throw back music!
[Verse 1]
Yeah, back in the day, you can remember
Young dumb and full of cum
Horseman, full shades, John Mere [?] bong
Used to live life with no fear
Fresh faced niggers getting thrown off the fence
[?] trucks motherfucker! Ever get jacked with a truck, motherfucker?
Crenshaw, Sunday nights was on deck
[?] the homies had curls and combs
The homies used to meet up on Mount Vern
D's [?] push that Y
Riders die, homicide
Triple and double, with the hood to get under
It was all about fellas, banging with straight
And then came K's, and then spray paints
And when K spread, everything stopped!
This was after the 9, and before the Glock
Girls had [?] braids so, so thick
You know we used to flip
Suzuki side kicks
Crack hit the hood, watch us work this game
S curls, K Swiss, Turkish chains
You had to pick a side to ride, rider
Dark blue khakis, black, green or flamed
Purple or dark brown, I tell you the reals!
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