Betty Rocker Lyrics - From Tha Roota To Tha Toota - Field Mob

You got to get ya cut get ya coke, baking soda 

Mix it up, whip it then put it in a pot 

Cook it up let it sit then it rock chop 

It up bag it then put it on the block 

I'm a roach in a raid trap 

I feel like new born babies in car seats 

I'm 'posed to stay strapped 

'Cause out'n the country likes collard greens and grits 

With fiends like Spike Lee they scream fa Nicks 

'Cause they keep calling me. Show me the Ben-jamens 

Scale of 1 to 10 might be 12 like Eminem 

What's all the fuss about shut ya mouf cut it out 

Ya house I hustle out make mo green than brussel sprouts 

Ya mad cause ?Al Capone came by? 

in a cold new ride and took y'all paper 

Brang a bar b que I'm a bark at you 

And red shirt ya like a football playa 

You don' sell dope like me 

I's ride the bus with coke way before Tyrese 

Cops, they sick of me Feds, wanna get rid of me 

'Cause I'm servin' heavy! Diddly Diddly Diddly Dee 

Cook it up let it sit till it rock chop 

It up bag it then put on the block