Mr. Pookie - Comin Hard Lyrics
[mr. pookie]Now uh, which way he came, left or right, you can squash thatI came from all directions playa, can you top that?I got em waitin mr. rippla, how you droppin it?See, ima drop it wit a cd full of major hitsI got tha switch when its click, Im in tha zone foolAnd plus you know that Im gon rip it fo tha song throughIts time to shine, time to polish off my game rightKrunk like its game night or a roy jones title fightWit combinations that can spark up in a blaze fireIm gettin paid while you bustas goin haywireSo wha you say now? I brought tha ruckusTestin tha bustas, got sumthin to say but no they love usIndeed, I bring tha trees when its time to chokeReady to beat up on tha foes at tha end of tha showThis time you know, my crooks stay on top of they gameAnd when you least expect it theas anotha hook to tha brainChorus(juiell)Balla, if you a balla tell em how you comin hardHustla, if you a hustla, baby hustle like a superstarPlaya, cause we some playaz and you know jus who we areCrooksta, if you a crook tell em how ya comin hard[mr. pookie]Right back at cha, awww hell naw I wont ease upDont got me krunk now, picture me wit cheese stuffedIn my pockets, I bout to get it on a paper rageGotta make my paper change, increase my paper weightSet tha stage, aint got no killaz on tha payrollOnly my crook playaz wit me from tha get goLet it be known Im from dallas, thats in texasBring it on, as if you think you can outflex usBetta bring yo best, cause Im runnin round these foolsI been waitin for this very day, straight up clownin foolsIll face him, who, you, wha, thats to all my foesSee we gunnin when we runnin playa, knockin down closed doorsAnd uh, down to strike a pose when I finish rippin on these figgazMakin sure my presence felt, boy I been bound to come up wit chaIts tha mr. comin hard on em, bring tha track, ima bomb on emKevin a put tha guard on em, ima bout to storm on emChorus[mr. pookie]Now you see in a change of clothes, still creased downGot my ice on my fingers and struttin hard through tha townAnd I cant forget my crown, flip tha brim like a pimpSlide my fingers across, thats to make sure of tha fitGot tha ladies checkin this and my hair whipped upAnd a sack in my pocket, french connection in tha cutValley ruff on tha mic, when Im chillin like thisThats when Im ballin wit my crooks feelin tipsy and shitIm comin dizzy wit hits, and cant nobody fade tha gsIm as witable, hitable no he strappin on these 3sYou can try, you wont succeed, Im to playa like, playboyI know some tru cats thatll whoop you and yo homeboysMe and pookie solo johnson in tha old schoolClubbin wit no rules, peepin tha foes 2Eatin some soul food and now we choosinIts mr. pookie neighborhood watchin, crooks is movinChorus
