Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Coming through fo' real we Cypress Hill, oh baby
Got that crunk, for yo' trunk, going gangsta crazy
We some real life hustlers, playing games in the street
We got that low-ri-der, scraping dipping on three (low-ri-der)
So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air
We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair
Player do that thing, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der)
Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we getting freaky tonight
Now when people are done, bumping they head to this
You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this
We been making you bounce, for many years already
Rock steady and cut, many niggas to confetti
But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff
Yes my gift is to amaze you all
Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what?
I slay niggas and still saving my best nut (low-ri-der)
But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when
I spit it out and start some flowing
I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smoking
Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's choking
Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in
I'm keeping, all you motherf*ckers in the deep end (low-ri-der)
You want to trip? Then I got luggage
I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us
Just get inside, we bouncing dipping, chop it up real tough
Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back
Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der)
I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla
Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia
Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya
Flossing too much, no vato's gonna want ya
Not right here homes, we're past all of that
Making that feria, spitting that raps
Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle
Cypress Ave, why a pudo les madre
Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit
Any pendejo's getting hit up quick
Whats up ese? What hood you claim?
Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang
Hands in the air with the pinky rings
Soul Assassins, running everything
To all you vatos, make sure you check this
In every barrio, I'm well respected
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Lowrider Video (MV)
Performed By: Hill Cypress
Written by: CHARLES MILLER, LEE OSKAR, HOWARD E. SCOTT, JERRY GOLDSTEIN, SYLVESTER ALLEN, HAROLD RAY I. BROWN, MORRIS DEWAYNE DICKERSON, LE ROY L. JORDAN, ARTURO MOLINA, ULPIANO SERGIO REYES, ALAN TRIVETTE
Hill Cypress - Lowrider Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Coming through fo' real we Cypress Hill, oh baby
Got that crunk, for yo' trunk, going gangsta crazy
We some real life hustlers, playing games in the street
We got that low-ri-der, scraping dipping on three (low-ri-der)
So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air
We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair
Player do that thing, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der)
Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we getting freaky tonight
Now when people are done, bumping they head to this
You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this
We been making you bounce, for many years already
Rock steady and cut, many niggas to confetti
But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff
Yes my gift is to amaze you all
Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what?
I slay niggas and still saving my best nut (low-ri-der)
But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when
I spit it out and start some flowing
I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smoking
Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's choking
Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in
I'm keeping, all you motherf*ckers in the deep end (low-ri-der)
You want to trip? Then I got luggage
I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us
Just get inside, we bouncing dipping, chop it up real tough
Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back
Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der)
I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla
Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia
Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya
Flossing too much, no vato's gonna want ya
Not right here homes, we're past all of that
Making that feria, spitting that raps
Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle
Cypress Ave, why a pudo les madre
Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit
Any pendejo's getting hit up quick
Whats up ese? What hood you claim?
Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang
Hands in the air with the pinky rings
Soul Assassins, running everything
To all you vatos, make sure you check this
In every barrio, I'm well respected
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Coming through fo' real we Cypress Hill, oh baby
Got that crunk, for yo' trunk, going gangsta crazy
We some real life hustlers, playing games in the street
We got that low-ri-der, scraping dipping on three (low-ri-der)
So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air
We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair
Player do that thing, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der)
Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we getting freaky tonight
Now when people are done, bumping they head to this
You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this
We been making you bounce, for many years already
Rock steady and cut, many niggas to confetti
But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff
Yes my gift is to amaze you all
Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what?
I slay niggas and still saving my best nut (low-ri-der)
But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when
I spit it out and start some flowing
I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smoking
Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's choking
Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in
I'm keeping, all you motherf*ckers in the deep end (low-ri-der)
You want to trip? Then I got luggage
I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us
Just get inside, we bouncing dipping, chop it up real tough
Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back
Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der)
I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla
Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia
Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya
Flossing too much, no vato's gonna want ya
Not right here homes, we're past all of that
Making that feria, spitting that raps
Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle
Cypress Ave, why a pudo les madre
Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit
Any pendejo's getting hit up quick
Whats up ese? What hood you claim?
Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang
Hands in the air with the pinky rings
Soul Assassins, running everything
To all you vatos, make sure you check this
In every barrio, I'm well respected
Low-ri-der, low-ri-der
Writer: CHARLES MILLER, LEE OSKAR, HOWARD E. SCOTT, JERRY GOLDSTEIN, SYLVESTER ALLEN, HAROLD RAY I. BROWN, MORRIS DEWAYNE DICKERSON, LE ROY L. JORDAN, ARTURO MOLINA, ULPIANO SERGIO REYES, ALAN TRIVETTE
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management