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Richie Rich It's On Here are the song lyrics for It's On by Richie Rich. For more excellent Richie Rich lyrics, run a search! Typed by: be_187@hotmail.com (Rich) Let's do this shit (E-40) Motherfuckers want they pockets swell. Smebbin' now, dope train, shit, fuck it. (Rich) 19...90 ughh...415 (E-40) 40 up in this bitch. [First Chorus: repeat 2X] (E-40) Motherfucker! (E-40) (Rich) You can't even fuck with me (R.R) (E-40) Cause in a major motherfuckerin' way (E-40) (Rich) It's on! (R.R) (E-40) It's like knick-knack, paddy-whack give a dog a bone [Verse One: Richie Rich] I got a flow so sick it runs a temperature of 101 on the daily, that's why it pays me And over 3 billion served, yeah, I'm runnin this like Mickey D So drive through If I let you slide through Could you funk wit'a nigga wit' a resume Rich'll never play And every rapper can't come this way So when I come bow down 100% I represent the east side of the Oaktown I throw a boss type of flossy flow But can you catch it 'Cause when it gets hectic I'm well respected And I'm that nigga serverin' tit for tat Twamp for twamp From the hills and the valleys into the deep swamps I leave no stones untouched when I bust It's strictly mental As I load all your dope into my rental And kick yo' ass to the curb And when you get served I let you know, Eastside's what I swerve No I'm comin' up cheap(?), beat after beat Makin' mail off a known to fluke(??) [First Chorus] [Verse Two: E-40] I'm from the Old School, Yes indeed I give my right arm for some good gold(?) weed I went through a whole lot just to feed the tummy And I refuse to lose the value money My shit is real, blunts and phillies Ain't nuttin' fake like them silicone titties I'd rather make big bread instead Regulate, get off in the bitches head Just like all you toe-up hoes Niggas wanna test my testicles Nigga you my nigga If you don't get no damn bigga Niggas don't wanna see me when I'm off that damn liquor Fo' scheezy, what's wrong wit' yo' pimpin', I gets busy Bitches love when I'm limpin, 40 watch your roll That's what they tell me back home, when I be gone, but it be on [First Chorus] + [Additional] (E-40) Motherfucker! (Rich) You don't wanna see me (E-40) Cause in a major motherfuckin way (Rich) Fool, it's on! (E-40) It's on (E-40) Knick-Knack, paddy-whack, give a dog a bone [Verse Three: Richie Rich] Jack of all trades, ballin' like Jordan You punk, fake inside the paint In fact I know you can't Do half of the shit you was claimin' in the county Suckas on yo' jock You claim you run the block Polyurethane busta you cracked in half Claim you foldin' bank But I know yo' bank stank I lived around the corner I seen you fully smoked Must I say some moe You ate a buck `o` four You sold your TV for a (??) cause it was way too late And when they sent you up state I heard you gained some weight So youse a baller, lyin to them youngsters quick Got 'em thinkin' you sick and representin' yo' click But youse a old school thinkin too much hype Yo' bicentenial bike(?) it got ugghh... rally stripes If they knew yo' identity You'd probably be the victim of a stickin' You ain't got to lie to kick it (E-40) I ain't no laggin'(?) (E-40) That nigga 40 and his cousin Richard Jackson [First Chorus] (E-40) Motherfucker! (E-40) Doo-Doo-Doo-Do (E-40) Da-Da-Da (x2) (E-40) Motherfucker! (E-40) Doo-Doo-Doo-Do (E-40) Da-Da-Da (x1) (E-40) 4-1-5-1-7-0-7 the bay area (E-40) BIAATTCH!! (E-40) There's a place in the bay (E-40) Where the naked hooches play (E-40) And a whole in the wall (E-40) So we can see it all (E-40) Bia-Biaatch (E-40) Doo-Doo-Doo-Do (E-40) Da-Da-Da (until fade)
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