Tone Lōc Cheeba Cheeba

When I get to a party, to get it started

I grab the microphone and rock it cold hearted

Go behind the curtains while my fans just point

You know what Loc’s doin, I’m blazin a joint

Cause it seems a lot of times, I’m at my best

After some indica, or a bowl of sess

I’m creatin, multiplyin, big time supplyin

Enough bud, to keep the WHOLE party high on

I might get ill and roll an eighth in one hooter

Park my Benz or cold jet out on my scooter

Bail to the coast, take a hell of a skunk

Twist up a big baba of this serious dope

Smoke it down to the nub, use my roach clip

So much damn resin, it’s starting to drip

It ain’t harmful like heroin; it’s also cheaper

That’s why I’m glad homeboy that I

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

Man, Don’t cha hate it when you ain’t go no weed

It seems about the time you really feel the need

To get high, get full, you know get blasted

Keep ya singin’ the high it really lasted

Rollin’ around tryin’ not to get popped

By the boyz, the pigs, you know the cops

Pull into one spot to see what they’re all about

Suckers noddin’ their head, tellin’ you they’re all out

You go back to the crib, Pick up the telephone

You try everybody so I guess you call Tone

Cause I can buy it O.Z. or go buy dime

I can pay cash for her, I can get it on time

It really makes no difference long as I get lit

Roll it in my Zig Zag, take a big bong hit

Cause after the bud, My rhymes start flowin’

Never gettin’ short uh uh uh, they always knowin’

I’m maxin’, relaxin’, but never taxin’

No need for you to keep on askin’

If it is It, If the Shit is the Shit

Cause when it comes to smokin’ cheeba

You know my shit is legit

You’re the student, and I’m the teacher

I’m not a minister, reverent, I’m not a preacher

So excuse me while I call time

Cause I’m gonna take a few hits

In the middle of this rhyme…

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

One day I was coolin’ with my homeboy Seal, chill

Getting fucked up in his Coupe De Ville, still

I wasn’t too high to know what I was doin’

Went to the store, copped some more brew and

Came back to the car, tried to be a winner

Rolled up all my roaches, barely made a pinner

I wasn’t upset I had more at the house

I was savin’ it for later, When I get with my spouse

Cause when we’re together, blazin’ the cheeba

She does things to me that you wouldn’t believe uh

I’m not talkin’ freaky or nothin’ obscene

But it’s not far off if you know what I mean

She’ll take me upstairs, lay me down on the bed

Pull off the Fila shorts and start givin’ me hizead

If I was boo I’d do the same

She must love it, She ain’t never complained

They’ll be moanin’, kickin’, a lot of screamin’

I work it so hard she starts steamin’

You know how it is after a couple of wooers

She was subject and I am the Ruler

She’s my freak y’all, but she’s no skeeza

One thing for sure, the girl’s always got that…

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

Two weeks ago when I was writin’ this rhyme

I had the hydroponic, Boy that shit was fine

I had two joints, One for me and my homie

After half the show, He didn’t even know me

His eyes were so tight, they were helluva red

He could bearly hold them up, They were heavy as lead

An hour went by, He said Loc I’m kinda hungry

I said “Oh shit! This brothers got the munchies!”

Got off my couch, put my Gucci’s on my feet

Went to the 7-11, it was right up the street

I ordered everythin’ edible off the shelf

He thought it was shared, I ate it all myself

When we got back to the car, Headed north then south

I needed a drink I had a cotton mouth

We had so much food didn’t know where to start

At the Häagan Daas or Kelloggs Pop Tarts

Big bags of chips, gallons of dips

It took me weeks to get the taste of my lips

I ate so much miserable is how I felt

Almost busted out my pants had to loosen my belt

Kickin at the tube, watchin’ none better than

You know the king of late night, Yeah Dave Letterman

Not too hilarious, jokes kinda plain

But everything is funny when you’re smoking Mary Jane…

[Outro:]

Mary Jane

Mary Jane

Yeah… Tell ’em ’bout it baby

I’m in love with Mary Jane

She’s my main thing

She makes me feel all right

She makes my heart sing

Mary Jane

Tone Lōc Pimp Without A Caddy

Hit me

Aaaaah yeeeaah

That’s the flavor right there

Sho’ you’re right

Yo, tell em what it’s all about, man

All that ballin thing

How you got it goin and on and on with that, huh

(Tell em what it’s all about)

[Verse 1:]

I’m a straight up hustler, never grew up in the ghetto, though

Yet strapped with a gat and stiletto, ho

Some say that I grew up in a wild hood

Not even knowin where I spent my childhood

The voice of panic hittin hard to make you hyper

The rhymes are pin-point and aim is sharp like a sniper

Out the barrels, the hollow point, comes the bullet

The trigger’s aimin, yo, I ain’t afraid to pull it

Cause in the city you never know what can come up

You turn your back and what’s up – a sucker runs up

And then you’re left in a stand-still

Nine times out of ten, yo, it’s kill or be killed

So I sit back and observe what goes on

So when a brother feels an oath to carryin on

I let him know this ain’t the time and place

But there will be a time and place

And I’m a smoke his ass…

Throw him so deep in the ground, boy, you think he was grass

And when you wake up, apologize to your daddy

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Youknowmsayin?

Just a O.G. type brother

I want you to break it down

And tell em about the days of young

[Verse 2:]

Now the pimpin I talkin ’bout, it don’t include girls

I pimp microphones and rock worlds

I been a gangsta since back in the day

Junior High School, I think it was in ’78

Back in the days when locs was called insanes

And I was coolin with my big cousin Nobrain

Back then, you know a sucker wouldn’t face me

Scared of catchin the pointed tips of my Stacy’s

Strollin the street with my sweet girl Jackie

Creased Curduroys and starched up khakis

Back then that was the style and it was ice

And every gear you saw me in was deadly precise

I ain’t never had a problem on any block

Cause if I did, sho’ I cut him and get socked

Roll in my Schwin, blazin up a fattie

Young Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

Just a little bad gooseneck, uknowmsayin?

Wasn’t really into a whole lotta bullshit

Just doin his own thing

Straight get his scrap on

But it was kinda cool, uknowmsayin

That’s why he was very well respected

[Verse 3:]

It ain’t all about who you’re bangin

Gangbangin or how much dope you’re slingin

It’s all about gettin your life established

And when you’re livin like Loc, your life is lavish

Everything, from my living to my bathtub

The exotic women and different type of backrubs

The places I travel, the things that I see

You’re startin to get the picture how they start to juice me?

You can’t compare me to wanna-pimps whimps

Cause that’s entirely a different type of pimp

Longevity is the key to my success

Not rollin around makin women undress

I am a player, petty actions surveyor

Never heard about a headache, cause I use Vaya

So the women can come kiss the sugar daddy

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

It was on to the break of dawn

I got it like that

I’m sworn to the hood

But check

I got things to do

Check this out

[Verse 4:]

An O.G. for life, and that’s what I have to be

Just like the homies standin front and back of me

And when you see us don’t ask stupid questions

Are we gangbangin? You know what’s our profession

We’re servin suckers techniques and good rhymes

Big Buds, loose women and good times

I don’t hesitate to check a boy in a second

He thinks I’m soft just because I went and made a record

It’s that petty thought that got him all smoked out

By a brother named Tone who was loc’ed out

I nutted up and I’m known to do it on occasion

And engagin in.44s and 12-gauges

Some old suckers lay the beat twice as hard

And when you see I got 20’000 bodyguards

I came to battle with rhymes, knowin theirs shabby

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

Straight up down for the crown

Tribe thing, uknowmsayin?

No matter who you are or where you come from

When they push you back to the wall

You got no choice but to come out swingin

Uknowmsayin

And that’s straight up real

No matter where you’re from

Laws of the street

Pimpin style

Special shout-out to the Westside Trizzide

Special shout-out to my homies EPMD

Special shout-out to Humpy Hump and crew

Special shout-out to ATL

What’s up with your football game?

Tone-Loc 150 yards, don’t know

To all the homies on the Westside

Tone Lōc Funky Westside

(Aw yeah, huh)

[Tone-Loc:]

(UH!) One-two, one-two…

Oh my God! Tone-Loc, where you been?

Oh, he back in the studio! HO-OH-oh-oh [laughs]

… Ohhh shhhit… It’s a miracle…

Hey, hey, whatcha gotta do, whatcha gotta do…

Check it out, holmes…

[Tone-Loc imitates a Jamaican rasta:]

BO-BO… Ladies and gentlemon… it is time for me to introduce to you

The grandmaster, the MC, that ‘oes from coast to coast

The gggrandwizard, The Man, The Myth, Tone Smith

But [?] known as, Tone-Loc!

Yo LOCO… I wan you to rip it up for ’em, mon!

Tell us what it’s all a-bout… rip it away from [?] bloodclots…

And do it for the westsyyyyde…

[Verse 1:]

I do believe the year was 1966

A young brother was brought up in the mix…

And ever since that day was born

Like a mother from a baby, he could never be torn

From the neighborhood that tardy so much

I’da hustle and chill, and surviving the clutch…

And if you didn’t know, I’m talkin’ ’bout the best side

Where the tribe reside on that Westside

This ain’t Bed-Stuy, but it’s like “Do or Die”

Contemplatin’ suicide to ride by

Homicides, and then it’s ova… (ova, ova…)

No rabbits for the four-leaf clover

Everything is everything, just mind yo’ buis-ness

And when I handle mine, I leave no witness

So when you’re walkin’, aim straight and keep goin’

The rhymes are gumblin’ and the tribe is still, flowin’

Fo’-deep in the G-ride… (G-ide, G-ride…)

Tryna make it, to the funky-ass Westside

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Verse 2:]

III remember the dayys, as a tee-ager

Before the hypeness, of a sky-pager…

It was “Happy Days, ” now “Who’s The Boss?”

Instead of The Shuffle, we was doin’ El Lacoss

And it was easy to catch a girl solo

Bust out the gigolo, but showed the polo

Before you thought we was coooold freakin’

BIG grindin’, dancin’ cheek to cheek and

Steal a kiss and you know I’m all excited!

Until the point where I can’t even hide it

And when you know, someone stepped on my shoe

And why they do that? And I done had too many blues

I tried, real hard, to stay cool and calm

He didn’t say, “Excuse me” so I had to BOMB

Lookin’ at his [?], I was only upset!

So I get, betta watch the step… (watch the step…)

On the funky-funky Westside… (Westside…)

It’s a funky-funky Westside

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Tone-Loc over Hook:]

For the O.G.s’ and dawgs, know what I’m sayin’?

Fo’ the insanes… to all the rocks

To all the Locs’…

[Kenyatta:]

I-I-I-IIIIII shot the sher-IFF (Yeah I did…)

But I did not shoot no deputy… (Nah…)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOO (I didn’t chalk him)

I said, III shot the sher-IFF (yeah, I shot him)

But I did not shoot, no deputy (ain’t shoot no deputy)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOOO

[Verse 3:]

Illusions of the world and my mind begin to twirl

Thinkin’ ’bout a wife, a lil’ boy and a girl

You can do this when your pockets are fat, not skinny

And at this point of time, I ain’t makin’ a penny

Hard times of it, so I gotta get my slang on

Back on The Ave., where I used to get my bang on

Homies all around, still pullin’ llicks

Ain’t worry ’bout a thang from Officer Dick

Yo they get theirs, so I gotta get mine

Knowin’ damn well the risks of doin’ time

To run this city, was the master plan

Yo I breathed the Aves., the block, the streets like a diaphragm

Times have changed, but I still scrap for mine (MINE)

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside (Westside)

On the West… side

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

Tone Lōc Cheeba Cheeba

When I get to a party, to get it started

I grab the microphone and rock it cold hearted

Go behind the curtains while my fans just point

You know what Loc’s doin, I’m blazin a joint

Cause it seems a lot of times, I’m at my best

After some indica, or a bowl of sess

I’m creatin, multiplyin, big time supplyin

Enough bud, to keep the WHOLE party high on

I might get ill and roll an eighth in one hooter

Park my Benz or cold jet out on my scooter

Bail to the coast, take a hell of a skunk

Twist up a big baba of this serious dope

Smoke it down to the nub, use my roach clip

So much damn resin, it’s starting to drip

It ain’t harmful like heroin; it’s also cheaper

That’s why I’m glad homeboy that I

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

Man, Don’t cha hate it when you ain’t go no weed

It seems about the time you really feel the need

To get high, get full, you know get blasted

Keep ya singin’ the high it really lasted

Rollin’ around tryin’ not to get popped

By the boyz, the pigs, you know the cops

Pull into one spot to see what they’re all about

Suckers noddin’ their head, tellin’ you they’re all out

You go back to the crib, Pick up the telephone

You try everybody so I guess you call Tone

Cause I can buy it O.Z. or go buy dime

I can pay cash for her, I can get it on time

It really makes no difference long as I get lit

Roll it in my Zig Zag, take a big bong hit

Cause after the bud, My rhymes start flowin’

Never gettin’ short uh uh uh, they always knowin’

I’m maxin’, relaxin’, but never taxin’

No need for you to keep on askin’

If it is It, If the Shit is the Shit

Cause when it comes to smokin’ cheeba

You know my shit is legit

You’re the student, and I’m the teacher

I’m not a minister, reverent, I’m not a preacher

So excuse me while I call time

Cause I’m gonna take a few hits

In the middle of this rhyme…

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

One day I was coolin’ with my homeboy Seal, chill

Getting fucked up in his Coupe De Ville, still

I wasn’t too high to know what I was doin’

Went to the store, copped some more brew and

Came back to the car, tried to be a winner

Rolled up all my roaches, barely made a pinner

I wasn’t upset I had more at the house

I was savin’ it for later, When I get with my spouse

Cause when we’re together, blazin’ the cheeba

She does things to me that you wouldn’t believe uh

I’m not talkin’ freaky or nothin’ obscene

But it’s not far off if you know what I mean

She’ll take me upstairs, lay me down on the bed

Pull off the Fila shorts and start givin’ me hizead

If I was boo I’d do the same

She must love it, She ain’t never complained

They’ll be moanin’, kickin’, a lot of screamin’

I work it so hard she starts steamin’

You know how it is after a couple of wooers

She was subject and I am the Ruler

She’s my freak y’all, but she’s no skeeza

One thing for sure, the girl’s always got that…

[Chorus x2:]

Got that Cheeba!

Cheeba Cheeba

Two weeks ago when I was writin’ this rhyme

I had the hydroponic, Boy that shit was fine

I had two joints, One for me and my homie

After half the show, He didn’t even know me

His eyes were so tight, they were helluva red

He could bearly hold them up, They were heavy as lead

An hour went by, He said Loc I’m kinda hungry

I said “Oh shit! This brothers got the munchies!”

Got off my couch, put my Gucci’s on my feet

Went to the 7-11, it was right up the street

I ordered everythin’ edible off the shelf

He thought it was shared, I ate it all myself

When we got back to the car, Headed north then south

I needed a drink I had a cotton mouth

We had so much food didn’t know where to start

At the Häagan Daas or Kelloggs Pop Tarts

Big bags of chips, gallons of dips

It took me weeks to get the taste of my lips

I ate so much miserable is how I felt

Almost busted out my pants had to loosen my belt

Kickin at the tube, watchin’ none better than

You know the king of late night, Yeah Dave Letterman

Not too hilarious, jokes kinda plain

But everything is funny when you’re smoking Mary Jane…

[Outro:]

Mary Jane

Mary Jane

Yeah… Tell ’em ’bout it baby

I’m in love with Mary Jane

She’s my main thing

She makes me feel all right

She makes my heart sing

Mary Jane

Tone Lōc Cutting Rhythms

It goes rama lama ding dong bigger than King Kong

I’m on the mike and still got it going on

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, full of philosophy, not being precocious

I can take an adjective run it around

Line it up in a rhyme-make you swear it’s a noun

Like a word to a verb, a part to a clause, hey!

I went for mine so you can go for yours

Dedication and desire keeps me on fire

If we was in London you’d be calling me sire

The length of the lecture can cause pressure

That’s why my rhymes, they’re dope-they’re so much fresher

Such a technique is so unique

Anticipation of a crime wave for me to speak

I go angle myself to be chill and not a bore

I’m living in L.A., you know I’m hard core

Your circle’s kind of envious you want to get with us

My name is Tone-Loc and my DJ’s got rhythm

Rhythms..Rhythms..Rhythms..

Yeah..

Do it!…Do it!…Do it!

One, two, buckle my shoe.

So many funky, fresh rhymes, man, I don’t know what to do

I begin to say ’em and M plays ’em

They bust us on a tip. We just daze ’em

I make up the rhymes (easy). Mike is the scratcher

Just like Duncan Hines cooking up fresh batches

Several raps are paper, but most of them scatter

Keep most the funky ones in my head, so it don’t matter

A saying, a skit, a practice or rehearsal

There’s one more song for the press to call “controversial”

It’s no cartoon-I don’t see no animation

You try to fuck us up because you’ll be filled with agitation

Circumstances, might not allow me to bust

Because they know I got more game than Toy-R-Us

It’s not Monopoly or Rubik’s Cube or game of Chess

Tone-Loc, MC, getting A’s on his test

Cause you’re out there, your mad. I know you want to hate us

But you’re forsake ’cause my DJ’s got rhythm

Rhythms..Rhythms..Rhythms..

Oh yeah..

Do it!…Do it!…Do it anyplace…

Anna likes to be..

With all LOC

Aaahh, girl…

What are you doing to me?

Oh, I like. You know it.

It ain’t a miracle so don’t get hysterical

I’m on the mike with a serious scenario

It’s on your radio and coming from the stereo

And don’t you cut it until Loc say so

The main attraction, give us satisfaction

A slayer and a player getting plenty petty action, yeah!

Hip Hop it and rocking a star

I will climb up any mountain just to get to the top

Cause women they see go down in a valley

A down brother, cool cooling in Cali

Cali, ‘ey, is the place I stay

When it rains on the west side streets of L.A.

A lot of people ask me why I started rapping

I say, “I don’t know, it just kind of happened.”

I had a few 40’s, I was drunk to the core

Sitting at the club, homeboy, I was hell of a bored

Then all of a sudden it hit me like a shock

Tone-Loc was in the place and it was time to rock

Just to freshen up my breath, I chewed a stick of Dentyne

And then I quoted on the mike with fresh routine

You know it.

All questions answered

And the case is closed

Tone-Loc in full effect. You know what I’m saying?

This is going out to all my homeboys on the west coast

Down south, up north, midwest. And of course, to all the chilling posses back east.

Brooklyn, Flatbush, the Bronx

Money-making Manhatten, Strong Island

What’s happening you all? How are you all living? Sure your way.

Ah, back to the west coast

West side L.A., East L.A., Compton, West Side, Watts

How you all living?

Littlewood

Dina. What’s up Dina?

Hey, it’s still a “Mr. Dina”, ha hey

Tone Lōc Funky Westside

(Aw yeah, huh)

[Tone-Loc:]

(UH!) One-two, one-two…

Oh my God! Tone-Loc, where you been?

Oh, he back in the studio! HO-OH-oh-oh [laughs]

… Ohhh shhhit… It’s a miracle…

Hey, hey, whatcha gotta do, whatcha gotta do…

Check it out, holmes…

[Tone-Loc imitates a Jamaican rasta:]

BO-BO… Ladies and gentlemon… it is time for me to introduce to you

The grandmaster, the MC, that ‘oes from coast to coast

The gggrandwizard, The Man, The Myth, Tone Smith

But [?] known as, Tone-Loc!

Yo LOCO… I wan you to rip it up for ’em, mon!

Tell us what it’s all a-bout… rip it away from [?] bloodclots…

And do it for the westsyyyyde…

[Verse 1:]

I do believe the year was 1966

A young brother was brought up in the mix…

And ever since that day was born

Like a mother from a baby, he could never be torn

From the neighborhood that tardy so much

I’da hustle and chill, and surviving the clutch…

And if you didn’t know, I’m talkin’ ’bout the best side

Where the tribe reside on that Westside

This ain’t Bed-Stuy, but it’s like “Do or Die”

Contemplatin’ suicide to ride by

Homicides, and then it’s ova… (ova, ova…)

No rabbits for the four-leaf clover

Everything is everything, just mind yo’ buis-ness

And when I handle mine, I leave no witness

So when you’re walkin’, aim straight and keep goin’

The rhymes are gumblin’ and the tribe is still, flowin’

Fo’-deep in the G-ride… (G-ide, G-ride…)

Tryna make it, to the funky-ass Westside

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Verse 2:]

III remember the dayys, as a tee-ager

Before the hypeness, of a sky-pager…

It was “Happy Days, ” now “Who’s The Boss?”

Instead of The Shuffle, we was doin’ El Lacoss

And it was easy to catch a girl solo

Bust out the gigolo, but showed the polo

Before you thought we was coooold freakin’

BIG grindin’, dancin’ cheek to cheek and

Steal a kiss and you know I’m all excited!

Until the point where I can’t even hide it

And when you know, someone stepped on my shoe

And why they do that? And I done had too many blues

I tried, real hard, to stay cool and calm

He didn’t say, “Excuse me” so I had to BOMB

Lookin’ at his [?], I was only upset!

So I get, betta watch the step… (watch the step…)

On the funky-funky Westside… (Westside…)

It’s a funky-funky Westside

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Tone-Loc over Hook:]

For the O.G.s’ and dawgs, know what I’m sayin’?

Fo’ the insanes… to all the rocks

To all the Locs’…

[Kenyatta:]

I-I-I-IIIIII shot the sher-IFF (Yeah I did…)

But I did not shoot no deputy… (Nah…)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOO (I didn’t chalk him)

I said, III shot the sher-IFF (yeah, I shot him)

But I did not shoot, no deputy (ain’t shoot no deputy)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOOO

[Verse 3:]

Illusions of the world and my mind begin to twirl

Thinkin’ ’bout a wife, a lil’ boy and a girl

You can do this when your pockets are fat, not skinny

And at this point of time, I ain’t makin’ a penny

Hard times of it, so I gotta get my slang on

Back on The Ave., where I used to get my bang on

Homies all around, still pullin’ llicks

Ain’t worry ’bout a thang from Officer Dick

Yo they get theirs, so I gotta get mine

Knowin’ damn well the risks of doin’ time

To run this city, was the master plan

Yo I breathed the Aves., the block, the streets like a diaphragm

Times have changed, but I still scrap for mine (MINE)

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside (Westside)

On the West… side

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

Tone Lōc Funky Westside

(Aw yeah, huh)

[Tone-Loc:]

(UH!) One-two, one-two…

Oh my God! Tone-Loc, where you been?

Oh, he back in the studio! HO-OH-oh-oh [laughs]

… Ohhh shhhit… It’s a miracle…

Hey, hey, whatcha gotta do, whatcha gotta do…

Check it out, holmes…

[Tone-Loc imitates a Jamaican rasta:]

BO-BO… Ladies and gentlemon… it is time for me to introduce to you

The grandmaster, the MC, that ‘oes from coast to coast

The gggrandwizard, The Man, The Myth, Tone Smith

But [?] known as, Tone-Loc!

Yo LOCO… I wan you to rip it up for ’em, mon!

Tell us what it’s all a-bout… rip it away from [?] bloodclots…

And do it for the westsyyyyde…

[Verse 1:]

I do believe the year was 1966

A young brother was brought up in the mix…

And ever since that day was born

Like a mother from a baby, he could never be torn

From the neighborhood that tardy so much

I’da hustle and chill, and surviving the clutch…

And if you didn’t know, I’m talkin’ ’bout the best side

Where the tribe reside on that Westside

This ain’t Bed-Stuy, but it’s like “Do or Die”

Contemplatin’ suicide to ride by

Homicides, and then it’s ova… (ova, ova…)

No rabbits for the four-leaf clover

Everything is everything, just mind yo’ buis-ness

And when I handle mine, I leave no witness

So when you’re walkin’, aim straight and keep goin’

The rhymes are gumblin’ and the tribe is still, flowin’

Fo’-deep in the G-ride… (G-ide, G-ride…)

Tryna make it, to the funky-ass Westside

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Verse 2:]

III remember the dayys, as a tee-ager

Before the hypeness, of a sky-pager…

It was “Happy Days, ” now “Who’s The Boss?”

Instead of The Shuffle, we was doin’ El Lacoss

And it was easy to catch a girl solo

Bust out the gigolo, but showed the polo

Before you thought we was coooold freakin’

BIG grindin’, dancin’ cheek to cheek and

Steal a kiss and you know I’m all excited!

Until the point where I can’t even hide it

And when you know, someone stepped on my shoe

And why they do that? And I done had too many blues

I tried, real hard, to stay cool and calm

He didn’t say, “Excuse me” so I had to BOMB

Lookin’ at his [?], I was only upset!

So I get, betta watch the step… (watch the step…)

On the funky-funky Westside… (Westside…)

It’s a funky-funky Westside

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Tone-Loc over Hook:]

For the O.G.s’ and dawgs, know what I’m sayin’?

Fo’ the insanes… to all the rocks

To all the Locs’…

[Kenyatta:]

I-I-I-IIIIII shot the sher-IFF (Yeah I did…)

But I did not shoot no deputy… (Nah…)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOO (I didn’t chalk him)

I said, III shot the sher-IFF (yeah, I shot him)

But I did not shoot, no deputy (ain’t shoot no deputy)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOOO

[Verse 3:]

Illusions of the world and my mind begin to twirl

Thinkin’ ’bout a wife, a lil’ boy and a girl

You can do this when your pockets are fat, not skinny

And at this point of time, I ain’t makin’ a penny

Hard times of it, so I gotta get my slang on

Back on The Ave., where I used to get my bang on

Homies all around, still pullin’ llicks

Ain’t worry ’bout a thang from Officer Dick

Yo they get theirs, so I gotta get mine

Knowin’ damn well the risks of doin’ time

To run this city, was the master plan

Yo I breathed the Aves., the block, the streets like a diaphragm

Times have changed, but I still scrap for mine (MINE)

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside (Westside)

On the West… side

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

Tone Lōc Funky Cold Medina

Alright, dig it

[Verse 1:]

Cold coolin at a bar, and I’m lookin for some action

But like Mike Jagger said, I can’t get no satisfaction

The girls are all around, but none of them wanna get with me

My threads are fresh and I’m lookin def, yo, what’s up with L-o-c?

The girls is all jockin at the other end of the bar

Havin drinks with some no-name chump, when they know that I’m the star

So I got up and strolled over to the other side of the cantina

I asked the guy, “Why you so fly?” he said, “Funky Cold Medina”

Funky Cold Medina

[Verse 2:]

This brother told me a secret on how to get more chicks

Put a little Medina in your glass, and the girls’ll come real quick

It’s better than any alcohol or aphrodisiac

A couple of sips of this love potion, and she’ll be on your lap

So I gave some to my dog when he began to beg

Then he licked his bowl and he looked at me and did the wild thing on my leg

He used to scratch and bite me, before he was much much meaner

But now all the poodles run to my house for the Funky Cold Medina

You know what I’m sayin?

I got every dog in my neighborhood breakin down my door

I got Spuds McKenzie

Alex from Stroh’s

They won’t leave my dog alone with that Medina, pal

[Verse 3:]

I went up to this girl, she said, “Hi, my name is Sheena”

I thought she’d be good to go with a little Funky Cold Medina

She said, “I’d like a drink, ” I said, “Ehm – ok, I’ll go get it”

Then a couple sips she cold licked her lips, and I knew that she was with it

So I took her to my crib, and everything went well as planned

But when she got undressed, it was a big old mess, Sheena was a man

So I threw him out, I don’t fool around with no Oscar Meyer wiener

You must be sure that the girl is pure for the Funky Cold Medina

You know, ain’t no plans with a man

This is the 80’s, and I’m down with the ladies

Ya know?

Break it down

[Verse 4:]

Back in the saddle, lookin for a little affection

I took a shot as a contestant on “The Love Connection”

The audience voted, and you know they picked a winner

I took my date to the Hilton for Medina and some dinner

She had a few drinks, I’m thinkin soon what I’ll be gettin

Instead she started talkin ’bout plans for our weddin

I said, “Wait, slow down, love, not so fast says, I’ll be seein’ ya”

That’s why I found you don’t play around with the Funky Cold Medina

Ya know what I’m sayin

That Medina’s a monster, y’all

Funky Cold Medina

Tone Lōc Funky Westside

(Aw yeah, huh)

[Tone-Loc:]

(UH!) One-two, one-two…

Oh my God! Tone-Loc, where you been?

Oh, he back in the studio! HO-OH-oh-oh [laughs]

… Ohhh shhhit… It’s a miracle…

Hey, hey, whatcha gotta do, whatcha gotta do…

Check it out, holmes…

[Tone-Loc imitates a Jamaican rasta:]

BO-BO… Ladies and gentlemon… it is time for me to introduce to you

The grandmaster, the MC, that ‘oes from coast to coast

The gggrandwizard, The Man, The Myth, Tone Smith

But [?] known as, Tone-Loc!

Yo LOCO… I wan you to rip it up for ’em, mon!

Tell us what it’s all a-bout… rip it away from [?] bloodclots…

And do it for the westsyyyyde…

[Verse 1:]

I do believe the year was 1966

A young brother was brought up in the mix…

And ever since that day was born

Like a mother from a baby, he could never be torn

From the neighborhood that tardy so much

I’da hustle and chill, and surviving the clutch…

And if you didn’t know, I’m talkin’ ’bout the best side

Where the tribe reside on that Westside

This ain’t Bed-Stuy, but it’s like “Do or Die”

Contemplatin’ suicide to ride by

Homicides, and then it’s ova… (ova, ova…)

No rabbits for the four-leaf clover

Everything is everything, just mind yo’ buis-ness

And when I handle mine, I leave no witness

So when you’re walkin’, aim straight and keep goin’

The rhymes are gumblin’ and the tribe is still, flowin’

Fo’-deep in the G-ride… (G-ide, G-ride…)

Tryna make it, to the funky-ass Westside

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Verse 2:]

III remember the dayys, as a tee-ager

Before the hypeness, of a sky-pager…

It was “Happy Days, ” now “Who’s The Boss?”

Instead of The Shuffle, we was doin’ El Lacoss

And it was easy to catch a girl solo

Bust out the gigolo, but showed the polo

Before you thought we was coooold freakin’

BIG grindin’, dancin’ cheek to cheek and

Steal a kiss and you know I’m all excited!

Until the point where I can’t even hide it

And when you know, someone stepped on my shoe

And why they do that? And I done had too many blues

I tried, real hard, to stay cool and calm

He didn’t say, “Excuse me” so I had to BOMB

Lookin’ at his [?], I was only upset!

So I get, betta watch the step… (watch the step…)

On the funky-funky Westside… (Westside…)

It’s a funky-funky Westside

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

[Tone-Loc over Hook:]

For the O.G.s’ and dawgs, know what I’m sayin’?

Fo’ the insanes… to all the rocks

To all the Locs’…

[Kenyatta:]

I-I-I-IIIIII shot the sher-IFF (Yeah I did…)

But I did not shoot no deputy… (Nah…)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOO (I didn’t chalk him)

I said, III shot the sher-IFF (yeah, I shot him)

But I did not shoot, no deputy (ain’t shoot no deputy)

Ohhh no, NOOOOOOOO

[Verse 3:]

Illusions of the world and my mind begin to twirl

Thinkin’ ’bout a wife, a lil’ boy and a girl

You can do this when your pockets are fat, not skinny

And at this point of time, I ain’t makin’ a penny

Hard times of it, so I gotta get my slang on

Back on The Ave., where I used to get my bang on

Homies all around, still pullin’ llicks

Ain’t worry ’bout a thang from Officer Dick

Yo they get theirs, so I gotta get mine

Knowin’ damn well the risks of doin’ time

To run this city, was the master plan

Yo I breathed the Aves., the block, the streets like a diaphragm

Times have changed, but I still scrap for mine (MINE)

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside

That’s how I’m livin’ on the Westside (Westside)

On the West… side

To the funky-ass Westside (Westside, Westside…)

[Hook – Kenyatta:]

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-na-naaa-ahhha-aahh

C’mon! Lemme hear you say

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Na-na-naa-naaahh-ahhhh

Tone Lōc Pimp Without A Caddy

Hit me

Aaaaah yeeeaah

That’s the flavor right there

Sho’ you’re right

Yo, tell em what it’s all about, man

All that ballin thing

How you got it goin and on and on with that, huh

(Tell em what it’s all about)

[Verse 1:]

I’m a straight up hustler, never grew up in the ghetto, though

Yet strapped with a gat and stiletto, ho

Some say that I grew up in a wild hood

Not even knowin where I spent my childhood

The voice of panic hittin hard to make you hyper

The rhymes are pin-point and aim is sharp like a sniper

Out the barrels, the hollow point, comes the bullet

The trigger’s aimin, yo, I ain’t afraid to pull it

Cause in the city you never know what can come up

You turn your back and what’s up – a sucker runs up

And then you’re left in a stand-still

Nine times out of ten, yo, it’s kill or be killed

So I sit back and observe what goes on

So when a brother feels an oath to carryin on

I let him know this ain’t the time and place

But there will be a time and place

And I’m a smoke his ass…

Throw him so deep in the ground, boy, you think he was grass

And when you wake up, apologize to your daddy

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Youknowmsayin?

Just a O.G. type brother

I want you to break it down

And tell em about the days of young

[Verse 2:]

Now the pimpin I talkin ’bout, it don’t include girls

I pimp microphones and rock worlds

I been a gangsta since back in the day

Junior High School, I think it was in ’78

Back in the days when locs was called insanes

And I was coolin with my big cousin Nobrain

Back then, you know a sucker wouldn’t face me

Scared of catchin the pointed tips of my Stacy’s

Strollin the street with my sweet girl Jackie

Creased Curduroys and starched up khakis

Back then that was the style and it was ice

And every gear you saw me in was deadly precise

I ain’t never had a problem on any block

Cause if I did, sho’ I cut him and get socked

Roll in my Schwin, blazin up a fattie

Young Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

Just a little bad gooseneck, uknowmsayin?

Wasn’t really into a whole lotta bullshit

Just doin his own thing

Straight get his scrap on

But it was kinda cool, uknowmsayin

That’s why he was very well respected

[Verse 3:]

It ain’t all about who you’re bangin

Gangbangin or how much dope you’re slingin

It’s all about gettin your life established

And when you’re livin like Loc, your life is lavish

Everything, from my living to my bathtub

The exotic women and different type of backrubs

The places I travel, the things that I see

You’re startin to get the picture how they start to juice me?

You can’t compare me to wanna-pimps whimps

Cause that’s entirely a different type of pimp

Longevity is the key to my success

Not rollin around makin women undress

I am a player, petty actions surveyor

Never heard about a headache, cause I use Vaya

So the women can come kiss the sugar daddy

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

It was on to the break of dawn

I got it like that

I’m sworn to the hood

But check

I got things to do

Check this out

[Verse 4:]

An O.G. for life, and that’s what I have to be

Just like the homies standin front and back of me

And when you see us don’t ask stupid questions

Are we gangbangin? You know what’s our profession

We’re servin suckers techniques and good rhymes

Big Buds, loose women and good times

I don’t hesitate to check a boy in a second

He thinks I’m soft just because I went and made a record

It’s that petty thought that got him all smoked out

By a brother named Tone who was loc’ed out

I nutted up and I’m known to do it on occasion

And engagin in.44s and 12-gauges

Some old suckers lay the beat twice as hard

And when you see I got 20’000 bodyguards

I came to battle with rhymes, knowin theirs shabby

O.G. Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy

Uknowmsayin?

Straight up down for the crown

Tribe thing, uknowmsayin?

No matter who you are or where you come from

When they push you back to the wall

You got no choice but to come out swingin

Uknowmsayin

And that’s straight up real

No matter where you’re from

Laws of the street

Pimpin style

Special shout-out to the Westside Trizzide

Special shout-out to my homies EPMD

Special shout-out to Humpy Hump and crew

Special shout-out to ATL

What’s up with your football game?

Tone-Loc 150 yards, don’t know

To all the homies on the Westside