Coming from all over Los Angeles, Black Hippy consists of Ab-Soul, Kendrick… Read Full Bio ↴Coming from all over Los Angeles, Black Hippy consists of Ab-Soul, Kendrick Lamar, Jay Rock, and Schoolboy Q.
Zip That Chop That
Black Hippy Lyrics
(Tha Biz Tha Bizness) let 'em die
Dead black Hippy
We don't give a fuck hell nah, nigga
This conglomerate so cool, Rock
We could freeze LA, nigga
Black Hippy move in
Kendrick Lamar i tell 'em like this
Ring the alarm or wake to a bomb
You ain't a rapper, you Elton John
Holding your john
I got a ton of croutons in the Louis Vuitton
That's big bread, the chickens are flying
Flocks when I come
Paul and Masson, half-drunk, stuck in a poem
Light matches underwater while I'm
Bracing the storm
I'm cool and I'm calm, laid back
Smoking a farm
Socking the shit out of niggas
'til I'm breaking my arm
Up in my zone, two blunts, cup of Patrรณn
45 on me, shoot you if you fuck with me wrong
No homo, pause
That's your life and it's going flatline
If you don't put your life in the song
I never drove a fast car
I almost ran over Tracy Chapman
She said, "Drive slow" I said, "Fuck off"
Ab-Soul what's up
Y'all? Other than you're subpar
Above all? I'm a Heaven gate above all
Fucking great
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that, what's that
That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
The Black Hippys, the bag full, the bag empty
Spent it all at the car lot
Then crash quickly
I'm trying to come with enough
Power to pass Fifty
I'm talking fifty bills you niggas
Don't fit the bill
You niggas don't keep it real
You fake as Pamela's titties
I pound kitties
Then hit the club with dogs with me
Tan Polos, no socks, chopped Dickies
Tan coupe, no top, bumping Biggie
Blowing sticky, before the group
Been a hippy
Nifty-fifty, all blue, real Crippy
Big money, long stocks, ask Pippy
Mask on, one sock, I gets busy
I smoke Blacks, relax, and watch Walt Disney
Puff squares
Pace in circles until I'm dizzy
Speaking of Disney, fantasies, I had many
I used to hate on Mickey
Mouse 'cause he had Minnie
Anyway, every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
Ahhh, napped through my final, made enough
Richer than Lionel
Fucking bitches on my job
Coming harder than rhino
Breaking their spinal, laid back
Bumping my vinyl
Navigation on the scopes, easy to find 'em
Find you and I'm right
Behind you, laid back, puffing a blunt
Gat on my lap
Constantly talking shit I'ma dump
Your homies acting charged up
They can still get jumped take your chain
Ash the kush for all you punks
However you want, whenever you want
You all can get it
Contagious, it's mad syphilis, blazing
It's God-giftedness
Die over death sentences, flow hot, plus
The beat knock like Jay witnesses
Tell 'em I killed the witnesses
Gifted as twenty Christmases, itching to blow
Like twenty bitches with mouths that
Need a dick in it, wow
I ran rap for half a mile, then got tired
Laid down and realized that I was lying
(You fucking crazy, man)
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that, what's that
That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
Dead black Hippy
We don't give a fuck hell nah, nigga
This conglomerate so cool, Rock
We could freeze LA, nigga
Black Hippy move in
Kendrick Lamar i tell 'em like this
Ring the alarm or wake to a bomb
You ain't a rapper, you Elton John
I got a ton of croutons in the Louis Vuitton
That's big bread, the chickens are flying
Flocks when I come
Paul and Masson, half-drunk, stuck in a poem
Light matches underwater while I'm
Bracing the storm
I'm cool and I'm calm, laid back
Smoking a farm
Socking the shit out of niggas
'til I'm breaking my arm
Up in my zone, two blunts, cup of Patrรณn
45 on me, shoot you if you fuck with me wrong
No homo, pause
That's your life and it's going flatline
If you don't put your life in the song
I never drove a fast car
I almost ran over Tracy Chapman
She said, "Drive slow" I said, "Fuck off"
Ab-Soul what's up
Y'all? Other than you're subpar
Above all? I'm a Heaven gate above all
Fucking great
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that, what's that
That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
The Black Hippys, the bag full, the bag empty
Spent it all at the car lot
Then crash quickly
I'm trying to come with enough
Power to pass Fifty
I'm talking fifty bills you niggas
Don't fit the bill
You niggas don't keep it real
You fake as Pamela's titties
I pound kitties
Then hit the club with dogs with me
Tan Polos, no socks, chopped Dickies
Tan coupe, no top, bumping Biggie
Blowing sticky, before the group
Been a hippy
Nifty-fifty, all blue, real Crippy
Big money, long stocks, ask Pippy
Mask on, one sock, I gets busy
I smoke Blacks, relax, and watch Walt Disney
Puff squares
Pace in circles until I'm dizzy
Speaking of Disney, fantasies, I had many
I used to hate on Mickey
Mouse 'cause he had Minnie
Anyway, every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
Ahhh, napped through my final, made enough
Richer than Lionel
Fucking bitches on my job
Coming harder than rhino
Breaking their spinal, laid back
Bumping my vinyl
Navigation on the scopes, easy to find 'em
Find you and I'm right
Behind you, laid back, puffing a blunt
Gat on my lap
Constantly talking shit I'ma dump
Your homies acting charged up
They can still get jumped take your chain
Ash the kush for all you punks
However you want, whenever you want
You all can get it
Contagious, it's mad syphilis, blazing
It's God-giftedness
Die over death sentences, flow hot, plus
The beat knock like Jay witnesses
Tell 'em I killed the witnesses
Gifted as twenty Christmases, itching to blow
Like twenty bitches with mouths that
Need a dick in it, wow
I ran rap for half a mile, then got tired
Laid down and realized that I was lying
(You fucking crazy, man)
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that
What's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we
Cook that, chop that, what's that
That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
Lyrics ยฉ Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Written by: Johnny McKinzie, Kendrick Lamar Duckworth, Christopher John Whitacre, Justin Keith Henderson, Quincey Hanley, Herbert Anthony Stevens
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Emilio Estrada
Humanity needs a black hippy album.
Flipitmixit
7 years later and still ain shit
Toniooo1700
๐
Omphemetse Moalosi
๐ฌ
BGF1LMS
Still waiting ๐ค
Keyarah Cleaves
ikr
kunta
You realize shit is old when:
Q has no bucket
Q is skinny
Solo hair is a regular afro
Kendrick hair is short af
Rock and Q can't walk without holding their pants
Anyway... TDE eating now
Young Morbid
Soul saggin worst than all of em lol
Local And Online Precious Metals
Rock and and Soul* canโt walk without holding their pants
Carlos Carloss
@lileeze ๐๐๐๐