Paper Trippin' Lyrics - W.c.

[WC] 

Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all? Dub C 

Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down 

Whassup Nate? 

[Chorus: Nate Dogg] 

Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars) 

Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider riders) 

Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah) 

Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need 

[WC] 

Check it out 

What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this chattin 

Bullshit rappin, let's really get it a-crackin 

Y'all niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper 

Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors 

Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces 

Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases 

The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin 

Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya 

Off brand assassin-er, jackin for figures c'mon 

Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender 

The purple tinter, the big spender 

The realest nigga you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno 

Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys 

Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties 

Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation 

Tippin on paper trippin nia 

[Chorus] 

[WC] 

Big beans or big wings or big screens 

Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams 

I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em 

Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan 

Riders don't worry multiply shift gears 

Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high 

The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all 

So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all 

Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang 

A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs 

Fuck the pain, give me a label ain't shit funny 

Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money 

Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich 

And get my dick licked by the baddest bitch 

Fade ya, real boy major with tough shit they ain't got 

like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin 

[Chorus] 

[Nate Dogg] 

Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) 

.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) 

.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) 

.. I need 

[WC] 

Testin testin, broadcastin live 

All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine 

No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow 

Gots to get my hands on that new body style 

Floss all you nigga, toss liquor up 

A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette butt 

Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up 

Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough 

Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust 

Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up 

Hands down I'm the motherfuckin man 

Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance 

Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants 

with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, nigga 

Worldwidin, ridin, collidin 

Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin 

[Chorus] 

[WC] 

Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous 

Comin through with fingers in the air 

Y'all know what time it is 

[Nate] Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's 

[WC] Dem dolla dolla dollars