Lyrics Jôckîn. (The Originals) - Tobe Nwigwe

Keh Keh Keh Keh
Yuh
Get twisted Sundays we ain′t gonna waste no time
Look

A lotta folk Jockin
This beat rockin
Southwest raised G Mob still poppin
The blades still choppin
The babes still boppin
The rap game look like the new slave auction
Can I get a what
Can I get a who
I flow for the the trigger happy rapping jigaboos
And those that be itchin to clap at the biggest coup
Who pack an SMG but don't work at the ticket booth
Lowkey fat fine but she pose goofy
Highkey flow raw but it′s no sushi
Boy I'm on wipe me down like the old boosie
Yuh shoulder chest pants shoes
Shoutout sim he the coldest with the dance moves
Try love try God and you can't lose
But try me and Ima show you what these hands do
Yeah Young Jurn hit me up said she movin down
Used to ride metro but I′m boomin now
I only rap to keep the ratio coonin down
Don′t sleep on me I got no chill
Every beat I'm on road kill
God bless me with cheese like Ro-tel
Cause I ride this coat tail
Most my partners still make door sales
And they be like oh well
Rock so much Ice it look like snow fell
And they move it whole sale
Go tell it on the mountain
It′s Wee-Gweh to the people pronouncing my last name acting
Like it's a fountain of consonants when they making the announcment
I′m tired of it
Stop it
I do God's work I′m philanthropic
I keep my beard glistening like a prophet
And hell if I ain't the plug then I'm the socket
I swear the whole hood got my back like a chripractor
Cause every bar I get it poppin like a firecracker
I′m tryna go from Genesis to the final chapter
So whenever the trumpet blow I survive the rapture
Yuh yuh
You′ll catch me hang gliding on clouds
Screaming out no diggity no doubt
Elohim next to me lookin Hennessy brown
We both jiggin
Swear I'm married to the game I elope different
Used to dream about the slab with the 4s tippin
Back when twista and do or die
Had me po pimpin
Every bar guava you can see the flow drippin
Yuh don′t touch my drip let it marinate
I swear I'm good in every hood like a pair of J′s
It's the reason every track I′m on defecate
Prayline 5:30 just to medidate
Me and fat got it poppin on our wedding day
I swear I rap for every piru and hoover
Tryna maneuver around the barricade at the pearly gates
Let us in every wretch need a rest haven
I keep it movin never worried about the steps taken
I give middle fingers to Satan wrestling with God
Demanding every ounce of favor he used to bless Jacob
I'm gone