Nothing At All
Written by: Michael Turner & Christopher Portugal
[Double K:] Yeah… up in the booth… my man Thes behind the boards… (Tomorrow, we gon' call an ambulance for your mama!)… we doing nothing at all… yeah… (Tomorrow, we gon' call an ambulance for your mama!)
[Double K:]
From the Golden State, holding weight
Inhale it, young nigga, hold it in then wait
Without the blingin' and singin'
The raw funk is what we put in your tape deck
And left right out the door with your respect
They say we catch wreck like highways, the fly way
Me and Chris give a pound and go and rock it on a Friday
Thank God, it's the P, and not the garbage you see on TV
Who wanna hear a million and rhyme, well, come and see me
I bust like climax in the middle of midnight
I'm moving like Cassius when he's having a good fight
I be in my hood, right? Drunk and staggering
Bagging and laughing at nothing at all
Like the topic of the verse, right up to my man Murs
Holding it down on Pico, getting them cars that move slow
Double, he set the mood, sorta like food on the table
The girls say he's packing and rehearsing, never practicing
I'm asking then, "Who's the nigga up on the mic
Who hold it so tight ain't had no bout with stage fright"
K.O. up in the verse, I'm like yayo in the church, superbad
Sold to the Godfather when I'm speaking the words
[Double K:] So what you doing, man? ([Both:] Nothing at all)
What? So what you doing, man? (Yo, nothing at all)
Huh, so what you doing, man? (Dude, nothing at all)
Oh yeah? Tomorrow, we gon' call an ambulance for your mama!
[Thes One:]
Holding the pen, then remembering a friend again
Like loading up the SP and dusting off the floppy tin box
Since a lot's changed, we brought the same
Like I-5 when you drive at night
I stop looking for the tunnel, light at the end
I just enjoy the drive and hoping that you catch the vibe
([Double K:] Word.) Eventually, we learned to liven up
We shine brighter than Mag-Lite (Yeah.)
Riding like skater green art on the tracks
Soul pumping like gasoline, 1992
Octane's the frame to maintain good aim
I remained the same, so Double changed the track
Chips for chaps and handclaps for pops, ay-yo
Props to my fam, child is the father of the man
And I can MC a jam, so screw the poetry slam (Alright)
I slam poetry and screw it on the snares
That come in pairs, two to a bottle
Watch the Desmond Tutu of rap get raw
The P got power like NATO
Your favorite crew straight stuntin' like potatoes
They don't mash it up, they don't want to mash it up
Ay-yo, so what's up? It goes…
[Thes One:] A-what… a-what you doing, man? ([Both:] Nothing at all)
What you doing, man? (Nothing at all)
Hey, what you doing, man? (Nothing at all)
What, what… What you doing, man? ([Double K:] Nothing at all)
So… so what you doing, man? (Nothing at all)
Tomorrow, we gon' call an ambulance for your mama!
(x8)
[Spoken sample:] I'm gonna order an ambulance for your mama, and we'll all be smiling...
*Important Note: These transcriptions are not verified with P.U.T.S., so there may be errors. We are especially unsure of the greyed-out text. We encourage you to offer your suggestions for lyrics corrections on the site's main page.
Trivia:
- None yet.
This track appears on the following releases:
- Tuxedo Rap (2006) (12" single) - Tres Records (TR396-015)
- Redheaded Stepfather: The Fake Leak (2006) (CD-R) - HipHopSite.com promo with the online purchase of Stepfather
