Letra de Intro de W.C. And The Maad Circle

I got put on the set, smokin Jimmy Jacks in a shack
with my nigga Coolio, got me to' the f*ck back
High as a UFO, standin in my drawers
in the hall, talkin to the walls
Now a nigga's spooked, umm
*Snagglepuss voice* Heavens to merkatroids, I'm looped!
I'm tripping! *normal voice* Nigga what do I see?
It's me, that nigga Dub C on the TV
Now I know I'm buzzed
cause I'm on the TV but the TV's unplugged
Damn, this shit is like the Twilight Zone
*sings theme* Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na; I'm blowed!
Cause now I'm havin illusions, illusions
of me on channel eleven on a black and white tube and
Mack and the Gene are one of mine show
Hangin with Sinead and they sippin on the four-oh
Now I know I'm trippin *Martin Lawrence voice* Oh my goodness!
Let me change the TV and
Dizamn! Once again there I go
But this time it's channel thirteen on Arsenio
I'm smokin a wet one on the couch
Givin up a fat middle finger to the crowd
I'm faded, but not in a way in which you ever seen
peep the side effects, yeah, I'm on the set

Chorus: *singers*

Asshole naked standin in front of the set; I'm wet
Ain't no escapin when yo' ass is wet; I'm wet

Look, look, way up in the sky everybody just
look, look, and you'll find me flyin high
So there I was, standin in front of the set mesmerized
Kickin off the scenery right before me eyes
High as a motherf*cker what was I to do?
Cause now the yerm has got me thinkin I'm on channel two
Peep it -- bip-bip-bip like the bi-on-ic man I'm out of control
and now I see myself on Highway Patrol
Runnin from the Feds tryin to make my get away
but there's *singin* nowhere to run, ba-bay
And now exhausted from this drama I needed a rest
So I went on channel four so I can catch my breath
Now who's this after five minutes of bein there
I met this motherf*cker named the Fresh Prince of Bel Air
Yeah this nigga was funny I must admit it
but his Uncle and his cousin Carlton was straight bitches
Them niggaz was cock blockin, talkin bout killin me
cause I told em I wanted to f*ck the shit out of Hillary, ooh
Now what's a realer trip to fantasy, all I know
is she was lookin good sportin them t-shirt and panties, huh
I can't believe this shit, nigga I'm wet
F*ck tricks, my mind is playin with dipsticks, I'm on the set

Chorus

Still blowed from the chemicals I'm askin was it worth it
Cause like Slick Rick now Dub C is scared and I'm nervous
Cause now the TV's changin by itself, uh-oh danger
Cause now I see myself on channel nine on the Gladiators
I'm swingin on a rope with a gauge
Boom, bang bang, you niggaz can't hang
F*ck a obstacle fool, I had them buff bitches runnin
Mass confusion now I hear one-time comin
So I swing to the exit, jumped off and jetted
Thank God mama kept the baby gat ready
I left all them bitches behind, til I got to channel fifty-two
and there I found myself on Good Times
Here was me and this nigga named J.J.
Out on a double date, just sippin on Kool-Aid
Now umm, ain't no need for me to pretenda
like my date was all that like J.J.'s boo-boo Belinda
yo, but she had a ass like Thelma, titties like Walona
Drunk off the Mad Dog I f*cked around and boned her
Like J.J. the pussy was dy-no-mite though
I must admit the hoe had a mug as ugly as Flo'
I'm on tha set