Right On Dilated Peoples (Ft. Tha Alkaholiks)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Right On" by Dilated Peoples (Ft. Tha Alkaholiks). 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.
[Chorus 1: J-Ro]
Back in the days, my pops said "Right on"
(Right on, right on)
All the street poets in the house, write on
(Write on, write on)
Black people, right on, right one
(Right on, right on)
All my niggas rollin Chevy's on deep-dish chrome, ride on ride on
(Ride on, ride on)
[Verse 1: J-Ro]
I still rock the party till the needle starts skippin
I'm trippin like Pippen, Spice Rum sippin
We're mentally fastest, head of all our classes
You couldn't pass us wit a rocket like NASA
We all up in the house like cocky-roaches
Snatchin MC's out the game like hockey coaches
Fuck it, I'll break you down like a bucket
I like the bass hittin like a ?
Close Encounters of the Likwit Kind
I'm sick wit mine, writin rhymes on picket signs
It's the J-R-O, you didn't know?
Goin off in your face like a dirty pist-ol
You in the house of brews, crime scenes wit no clues
You walkin home bruised, confused wit no shoes
YOU LOSE! Cuz you got the Dilated blues
Here's some news, my DJ rock the mic and the ones and twos
And I'm out
Back in the days, my pops said "Right on"
(Right on, right on)
All the street poets in the house, write on
(Write on, write on)
Black people, right on, right one
(Right on, right on)
All my niggas rollin Chevy's on deep-dish chrome, ride on ride on
(Ride on, ride on)
[Verse 1: J-Ro]
I still rock the party till the needle starts skippin
I'm trippin like Pippen, Spice Rum sippin
We're mentally fastest, head of all our classes
You couldn't pass us wit a rocket like NASA
We all up in the house like cocky-roaches
Snatchin MC's out the game like hockey coaches
Fuck it, I'll break you down like a bucket
I like the bass hittin like a ?
Close Encounters of the Likwit Kind
I'm sick wit mine, writin rhymes on picket signs
It's the J-R-O, you didn't know?
Goin off in your face like a dirty pist-ol
You in the house of brews, crime scenes wit no clues
You walkin home bruised, confused wit no shoes
YOU LOSE! Cuz you got the Dilated blues
Here's some news, my DJ rock the mic and the ones and twos
And I'm out
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