ROLLIN'
RZA & Black Knights Lyrics


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feat. RZA
[Doc Doom]
Oh how I love my a hundred spokes
Flossin and shit, California
Flossin on them gold ones
Black Knights
Old ones, I sold them
Sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones
The chrome was the old ones, I sold them

Can I get a drum roll please for my gold D's?
Hundred spoke Daytonas, wish we all could be California
Smokin bank in the corners in a black six-deuce
Hittin switches, dippin, switchin on that ackrite juice
Act like you, wan' try and take my D's
Watch how fast these slugs in this thang gon' leave
Watch how many holes in ya body it leaves
Watch how much pints of blood you bleed
May the fake thugs retreat, pop up barkin the heat
Caravanin nine-to-ten cars deep
Down the 'shaw where Knights is known to breakin laws
And if a bitch is ridin with me she's takin it off
Now get off ya job, if not bitch I'm layin you off
'cause I guess the last nigga that you fucked with was soft
That ain't me, it cost just to floss with me
And how I love my a hundred spoke D's

[Chorus 3.5X: Doc Doom]
Rollin, sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones
The chrome was the old ones, I sold them

[RZA]
Yo
Up in a black bourbon tank labelled GMC
Smokin on a Newport long and PCP
Gat tucked in, easy pass, I'm low duckin
Dimepiece bird on the side I'm finger-fuckin
Bouncin off this deuce-deuces, fat like Polo gooses
Eighteen-inch woofers movin studio acoustics
Rim tri-star, chrome on my side-bar
Don't hate crab 'cause I caught ya bitch eye par
Platinum grill, re-enforced solid steel
Superstar engine, force of an eighteen wheel
That'll crash through brick walls, smash intersections
Move through ya city escorted with police protection
Heated polished seats with back massages
You gotta know how to roll in more like Kenny Rogers
Tinted glass, PS2 plus Dreamcast
Smoke screens, blindin high blasts
GPS satellite navigation
Automatic lock doors drop jackers to the station
You got beef you get fed to Doc Doom
Goon, you can't fuck with Wu Killa Bee Clan platoon
I might get Holocaust to come and cough on you
My nigga Crisis might love to let one off on you
Or Rugged Monk rolls up another blunt
The great Digi goes and lures out another cunt
'cause I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
Ain't got no money or love for you funny fools
'cause I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
Sippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools

[Monk]
I'm from the land of chaos where niggaz get shot for trippin
I caught a fool slippin on some D's, now I'm steady dippin
Cruisin, movin up the block 'cause I'm the shit
Stick dick to hoodrats, make gangsta hits
I baptize my sticks, ice skate on seventeens
On the phone with five-oh, don't you love them D's?
While they spin, you freeze in ya souped up paint clean
Fifties, amps, six by nines and thangs
Comin down the block, let my sub straight bang
Like, "Fuck the po-po's, I'm not turnin it down"
I love to floss as I toss up a fifth of that Crown
Bank corner after corners, watch all the ho's smile





[Chorus 3.5X]

Overall Meaning

In "Rollin in 2-3" by RZA & Black Knights feat Doc Doom and Monk, the two rappers express their love for cruising in old school cars such as the classic Cadillac or Chevrolet, enhanced by features such as a hundred Spoke D’s or 17" wheels. They describe their style as “California,” implying that the act of rolling in luxurious cars with bells and whistles is a part of West Coast lifestyle. The chorus encapsulates the essence of the song with Doc Doom shedding light on the Cadillac they roll in and the spoked rims on them that “the chrome was old so I sold them.” The song’s lyrics comprise various elements of West Coast hip hop culture and showcase the popular themes pervasive of material excess, indulgence, and dangerous rap guile.


The first stanza starts with Doc Doom bragging about his a hundred spoke D’s and repeats the chorus line about selling the old chrome. He notes how he sips on a cold one while cruising on his gold spokes, expressing the pleasure of having expensive features. The cadence of his voice matches the beat of the song and the instrumentals that accompany it. The listener can visualize him driving down the street, turning a few heads, and enjoying the experience.


RZA’s verse is more ominous, and his voice is deeper, matching his lyrics about smoking PCP and having a gun tucked in his waistband. He references classic technology and speaks on his platinum grill, and he reinforces his car strength compared to the force of an 18 wheeler. He then transitions the lyrics into a warning to enemies of the Wu Killa Bee Clan but emphasizes that rolling is his true passion. The third verse by Monk is less ostentatious than the previous ones, as he speaks about cruising his set and enjoying the little things: ice skating on seventeens, drinking Crown Royal, and driving past hoes. The song ends with Rza repeating the line, “Rollin, rollin, rollin on them twenty-twos.”


Line by Line Meaning

Oh how I love my a hundred spokes
I have a strong affinity towards my hundred spoke wheels.


Flossin and shit, California
Showing off and being extravagant in California.


Flossin on them gold ones
Showing off on my gold rims.


Old ones, I sold them
I sold my old gold rims.


Sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones
Enjoying a cold beverage while driving on my gold rims.


The chrome was the old ones, I sold them
I sold my old rims that were chrome.


Can I get a drum roll please for my gold D's?
Requesting a celebratory drum roll for my gold Daytonas.


Hundred spoke Daytonas, wish we all could be California
My hundred spoke Daytonas are so desirable, everyone wishes they could own them in California.


Smokin bank in the corners in a black six-deuce
My car's powerful engine allows me to speed through corners while smoking marijuana.


Hittin switches, dippin, switchin on that ackrite juice
I'm modifying my car's suspension and hydraulics to make it jump and bounce while under the influence of PCP.


Act like you, wan' try and take my D's
If you try to steal my Daytonas, you'll regret it.


Watch how fast these slugs in this thang gon' leave
Be prepared to get shot if you attempt to take my car.


Watch how many holes in ya body it leaves
You'll get shot multiple times if you try to take my car.


May the fake thugs retreat, pop up barkin the heat
Fake gangsters should leave when confronted with real heat.


Caravanin nine-to-ten cars deep
My crew is rolling deep with nine to ten cars in a caravan.


Down the 'shaw where Knights is known to breakin laws
We're driving down the infamous street where Black Knights are notorious for breaking the law.


And if a bitch is ridin with me she's takin it off
If a woman is in my car, she's taking off her clothes.


Now get off ya job, if not bitch I'm layin you off
If you don't leave me alone, I'll physically remove you from my car.


'cause I guess the last nigga that you fucked with was soft
You must have dealt with people who were weak and easily intimidated before.


That ain't me, it cost just to floss with me
I'm not someone to be messed with and it takes money to keep up with me.


And how I love my a hundred spoke D's
I have a great affection for my hundred spoke Daytonas.


Rollin, sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones
I'm cruising while enjoying a cold drink on my gold Daytonas.


The chrome was the old ones, I sold them
I sold my old chrome rims.


Up in a black bourbon tank labelled GMC
I'm driving a black GMC vehicle that looks like a tank.


Smokin on a Newport long and PCP
I'm smoking marijuana and PCP.


Gat tucked in, easy pass, I'm low duckin
I have my gun hidden and I'm keeping a low profile.


Dimepiece bird on the side I'm finger-fuckin
I have a beautiful woman on the passenger side who I'm sexually touching with my fingers.


Bouncin off this deuce-deuces, fat like Polo gooses
My car is bouncing up and down due to the modifications in the hydraulics and looks like a fat Polo goose.


Eighteen-inch woofers movin studio acoustics
The eighteen-inch subwoofers are creating a studio-quality sound inside the car.


Rim tri-star, chrome on my side-bar
I have rims with tri-star pattern and chrome on the side-bar.


Don't hate crab 'cause I caught ya bitch eye par
Don't be jealous because I caught the attention of a woman you like.


Platinum grill, re-enforced solid steel
My grill is platinum and the car is reinforced with solid steel.


Superstar engine, force of an eighteen wheel
My vehicle's engine is very powerful, like that of an eighteen-wheeler truck.


That'll crash through brick walls, smash intersections
My car is strong enough to crash through brick walls and smash through intersections.


Move through ya city escorted with police protection
I'm driving through the city with police protection.


Heated polished seats with back massages
My seats are heated and polished, and provide massages to the back.


You gotta know how to roll in more like Kenny Rogers
You need to know how to drive a car like a pro, like Kenny Rogers.


Tinted glass, PS2 plus Dreamcast
My car has tinted windows and I'm playing video games on a PlayStation 2 and Dreamcast system.


Smoke screens, blindin high blasts
I'm using smoke screens to escape and the high beams of my car can blind people.


GPS satellite navigation
I have GPS technology in my car for navigation.


Automatic lock doors drop jackers to the station
My car's doors automatically lock and any would-be thieves are caught and sent to jail.


You got beef you get fed to Doc Doom
If you have a problem with me, I'll take care of it and you'll be dealt with by Doc Doom.


Goon, you can't fuck with Wu Killa Bee Clan platoon
You can't handle the Wu Killa Bee Clan platoon.


I might get Holocaust to come and cough on you
I might have Holocaust (from Wu-Tang Clan) give you a cough, which is a reference to him spitting deadly rhymes.


My nigga Crisis might love to let one off on you
My friend Crisis may shoot at you.


Or Rugged Monk rolls up another blunt
Or Rugged Monk (from Black Knights) rolls another marijuana joint.


The great Digi goes and lures out another cunt
The great Digi (from Wu-Tang Clan) will seduce another woman.


'cause I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
I love driving on my twenty-two-inch rims.


Ain't got no money or love for you funny fools
I have no time or money for people who act foolish.


Sippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools
I'm drinking beer and carrying weapons to protect myself from foolish people.


I'm from the land of chaos where niggaz get shot for trippin
I'm from a dangerous place where people get shot for starting trouble.


I caught a fool slippin on some D's, now I'm steady dippin
I caught someone trying to steal my Daytonas and now I'm driving away.


Cruisin, movin up the block 'cause I'm the shit
I'm driving around because I'm cool and popular.


Stick dick to hoodrats, make gangsta hits
I hook up with lower-class women and make gangster music.


I baptize my sticks, ice skate on seventeens
I get my guns blessed and drive on seventeen-inch rims (with a reference to ice skating).


On the phone with five-oh, don't you love them D's?
I'm chatting with the police on the phone and bragging about my Daytonas.


While they spin, you freeze in ya souped up paint clean
While my Daytonas are spinning, you'll be frozen in awe admiring my car's paint job.


Fifties, amps, six by nines and thangs
I have fifty-inch rims, powerful amplifiers, and six by nine speakers.


Comin down the block, let my sub straight bang
I'm driving down the street blasting my subwoofers.


Like, "Fuck the po-po's, I'm not turnin it down"
I don't care about the police's noise regulations and won't turn my music down.


I love to floss as I toss up a fifth of that Crown
I enjoy showing off while drinking a fifth of Crown Royal whiskey.


Bank corner after corners, watch all the ho's smile
I'm driving around corners while impressing women and making them smile.


Rollin, sippin on a cold one, Rollin on them gold ones
I'm driving while drinking a cold beverage on my gold rims.


The chrome was the old ones, I sold them
I sold my old chrome rims.




Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: D. Cunningham, Robert F. Diggs, Roosevelt Griffin Jr.

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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