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  • 作曲 : WC/Sylvester Stewart
    * car pulls up *
    Hey fellas
    Any of you guys seen
    Willie Calloway?
    Wille who, man?
    What you talkin bout?
    Calloway,
    Willie Calloway
    What this fool talkin bout?
    Yeah If y'all think
    I'm goin back to that mutha****a, you're crazy
    Mutha****as [ VERSE 1: W.C. ]
    It all started on a
    Saturday night, yo,
    I was restin my nerves
    Coolin at the pad, smokin herb
    Had a show the next day, so
    I figured
    I'd rest Cause when
    I throw a show,
    I like to give it my best
    Yo, that's when
    I heard the telephone ring
    It was my homie named
    Gee, big baller from around the way
    Said he had a party and he wanted me to come
    And I couldn't even front, cause
    I owed him one
    See, Gee was a homie from a long time ago
    When I was young, he used to let me get the rag 6-4
    I used to sell **** with him, even went to jail with him
    He put me down, ain't no way
    I could forget about him
    So now I got myself coolin at a party
    On amp, playin dominos, drinkin
    Bacardi Sittin at a table with some fools
    I don't know
    Rollin the
    Endo, and sippin on
    Cisco I had a feelin that just wouldn't quit
    Bein around too many high rollers made me itch
    I ain't the one to wear silk, so
    I felt like a jerk
    Cause I was the only in some jeans and a t-shirt
    Fools kept stearin at me, lookin kinda funny
    Big Six on the table takin all the money
    The party was on until the drink got low
    That's when
    Gee slid me 10 to make a run to the sto'
    He wanted me to roll with his homie named
    Joe Smart baller, by the way, who drove a raggedy
    Pinto That's when
    I knew right then and there
    I had a funny-ass feelin it was trouble in the air
    Cause now
    I'm on the roll with this ***** named
    Joe Who wore [???] with a big-ass afro
    Just my luck we got pulled to the side (What happened?)
    ******* in the back of the ride
    Since I ain't a snitch,
    I was thrown in the jailhouse
    Doin 5 years over ****
    I didn't know about
    No more women, and no more shows
    Wish I was out on a furlough [ CHORUS ]
    Time again you wanna lock me up
    Lock me up, lock me up
    Time again you wanna lock me up
    A ***** like me, you wanna lock me up [ VERSE 2: W.C. ]
    So now I'm in the jailhouse gettin all swoll'
    Doin 2 to 5 for this *****
    I don't know
    Fools say jail ain't nothin to sweat
    But if you ain't got a rep, you gotta claim your set
    But I don't bang, y'all, so what can
    I say? I'm just a funky rapper from around the way
    But right in my face about a million brothers stood
    Throwin up gangsigns, representin they neighborhood
    Brother named
    Black who ran the yard
    Told me, "Bust a funky rap, and you won't need a bodyguard"
    Don't get me wrong, y'all,
    I'm far from soft
    But for the next six months
    I was rappin my ass off
    Now here we go,
    I had the whole jailhouse
    Rockin back and forth, and even the wardens
    Threw their hands in the air while
    I bust a rhyme
    But now the chow line, y'all, was one big showtime
    But that's when a riot jumped off
    And they threw me in the box for startin it off
    They told me for the next 7 months, if
    I laid low
    Then I'd be egible for a furlough [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 3: W.C. ]
    Finally I'm out on a furlough
    Back on the streets in a
    Coupe that's sittin kinda low
    Yo, come to find that the group
    Low Pro done went solo
    Now it's all aobut the
    Maad Circle
    I'm hangin out with
    Tunes and
    Coolio Drinkin out the brown paperbag, dodgin my
    P.O. I'm only 'posed to be out for one day
    But the judge don't know that
    I'm a runaway
    Something like a fugitive, but
    I don't run,
    I bust back, y'all
    No more sittin in the hole eatin chew balls
    Now I pack my bag and grab my gat
    And have the
    Maad Circle put me down on contract
    And lay low like a snake in the grass
    Change my profile and do away with the past
    And now I'm gettin paid to be a vocalist
    Accordin to the law, though
    I'm wanted on a hit list
    Crazy Tunes,
    Coolio and
    Gee's the
    Maad Circle
    And still to this day, yo,
    I'm out on a furlough [ CHORUS ] (He's probably twenty-somethin years old And he gon' do 20, probably gon' do 20 years That's what he hollerin about, you know? Cause the guy, he's - he 20 years old You know, he in his twenties He's rude, and all that right there, you know He might - It's just like me: I came in the penitentiary when I was 22 years old You know, that's - that's the baby You know, now - now I'm 40 You see what I'm sayin? The man talkin bout he want me to do - 20 mo' years)
  • 作曲 : WC/Sylvester Stewart
    * car pulls up *
    Hey fellas
    Any of you guys seen
    Willie Calloway?
    Wille who, man?
    What you talkin bout?
    Calloway,
    Willie Calloway
    What this fool talkin bout?
    Yeah If y'all think
    I'm goin back to that mutha****a, you're crazy
    Mutha****as [ VERSE 1: W.C. ]
    It all started on a
    Saturday night, yo,
    I was restin my nerves
    Coolin at the pad, smokin herb
    Had a show the next day, so
    I figured
    I'd rest Cause when
    I throw a show,
    I like to give it my best
    Yo, that's when
    I heard the telephone ring
    It was my homie named
    Gee, big baller from around the way
    Said he had a party and he wanted me to come
    And I couldn't even front, cause
    I owed him one
    See, Gee was a homie from a long time ago
    When I was young, he used to let me get the rag 6-4
    I used to sell **** with him, even went to jail with him
    He put me down, ain't no way
    I could forget about him
    So now I got myself coolin at a party
    On amp, playin dominos, drinkin
    Bacardi Sittin at a table with some fools
    I don't know
    Rollin the
    Endo, and sippin on
    Cisco I had a feelin that just wouldn't quit
    Bein around too many high rollers made me itch
    I ain't the one to wear silk, so
    I felt like a jerk
    Cause I was the only in some jeans and a t-shirt
    Fools kept stearin at me, lookin kinda funny
    Big Six on the table takin all the money
    The party was on until the drink got low
    That's when
    Gee slid me 10 to make a run to the sto'
    He wanted me to roll with his homie named
    Joe Smart baller, by the way, who drove a raggedy
    Pinto That's when
    I knew right then and there
    I had a funny-ass feelin it was trouble in the air
    Cause now
    I'm on the roll with this ***** named
    Joe Who wore [???] with a big-ass afro
    Just my luck we got pulled to the side (What happened?)
    ******* in the back of the ride
    Since I ain't a snitch,
    I was thrown in the jailhouse
    Doin 5 years over ****
    I didn't know about
    No more women, and no more shows
    Wish I was out on a furlough [ CHORUS ]
    Time again you wanna lock me up
    Lock me up, lock me up
    Time again you wanna lock me up
    A ***** like me, you wanna lock me up [ VERSE 2: W.C. ]
    So now I'm in the jailhouse gettin all swoll'
    Doin 2 to 5 for this *****
    I don't know
    Fools say jail ain't nothin to sweat
    But if you ain't got a rep, you gotta claim your set
    But I don't bang, y'all, so what can
    I say? I'm just a funky rapper from around the way
    But right in my face about a million brothers stood
    Throwin up gangsigns, representin they neighborhood
    Brother named
    Black who ran the yard
    Told me, "Bust a funky rap, and you won't need a bodyguard"
    Don't get me wrong, y'all,
    I'm far from soft
    But for the next six months
    I was rappin my ass off
    Now here we go,
    I had the whole jailhouse
    Rockin back and forth, and even the wardens
    Threw their hands in the air while
    I bust a rhyme
    But now the chow line, y'all, was one big showtime
    But that's when a riot jumped off
    And they threw me in the box for startin it off
    They told me for the next 7 months, if
    I laid low
    Then I'd be egible for a furlough [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 3: W.C. ]
    Finally I'm out on a furlough
    Back on the streets in a
    Coupe that's sittin kinda low
    Yo, come to find that the group
    Low Pro done went solo
    Now it's all aobut the
    Maad Circle
    I'm hangin out with
    Tunes and
    Coolio Drinkin out the brown paperbag, dodgin my
    P.O. I'm only 'posed to be out for one day
    But the judge don't know that
    I'm a runaway
    Something like a fugitive, but
    I don't run,
    I bust back, y'all
    No more sittin in the hole eatin chew balls
    Now I pack my bag and grab my gat
    And have the
    Maad Circle put me down on contract
    And lay low like a snake in the grass
    Change my profile and do away with the past
    And now I'm gettin paid to be a vocalist
    Accordin to the law, though
    I'm wanted on a hit list
    Crazy Tunes,
    Coolio and
    Gee's the
    Maad Circle
    And still to this day, yo,
    I'm out on a furlough [ CHORUS ] (He's probably twenty-somethin years old And he gon' do 20, probably gon' do 20 years That's what he hollerin about, you know? Cause the guy, he's - he 20 years old You know, he in his twenties He's rude, and all that right there, you know He might - It's just like me: I came in the penitentiary when I was 22 years old You know, that's - that's the baby You know, now - now I'm 40 You see what I'm sayin? The man talkin bout he want me to do - 20 mo' years)