Walk
WC Ice Cube Mack 10 Lyrics
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Get you a bitch up on the floor
You gotta get up and get down (Walk!)
You gotta get up and get down (Walk!)
To the West, march
Bang, crease the starch
Uh oh, here we go again
State yo name
Ice Cube motherfucker
What's your name
Mack 10 motherfucker
Well bang on, swang on
Cause on mine I'm a G on, Dub see let a scene on
Get my green on, with my white sling on
Weather my rag in, with my khakis cuffed and dragging
Three wheels, make the heat squeal
This West coast shit is the shit that we built
Who want to bust with or fuck with him, and confess
y'all can't fuck with it, I'm out the roof with it, bang loose with it
Dub see, from that Dub SC
Fo sho to make ya peeps slang off the cheese man
[Chorus]
Walk, walk
Niggas let me see you walk
Walk, walk
Bitches let me see you walk
Bitches let me see you walk
To the West, march
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start
Ice Cube motherfucker, I represent this
Don't mistake the masked up for the apprentice
All you bitch ass niggas are defenceless
Like a Catholic priest, and bout ten kids
It's Sunday school, I run you fools
You ain't gone do shit
I got the flip shit, to plant
Spit it like I'm gone spit it
Niggas want to get it, but they won't admit it
I'm connected and committed
All the way bided, while you bullshitted
I'm on exhibit, like a pitbull off the chain
Motherfuckers gone flip out, ropes get ripped out
Niggas gone trip out, crip out, get a four-fifth out
Get bout, with a brick house, with my dick out saying fuck ya
My whole career, I kept it gangsta and hustla
[Chorus]
It's for the ghetto and the gutter every time I spit
For niggas that walk off that funkadelic shit
I just might go psycho, and grab the automatic
And let one off for the gang bang addicts
Cause I'm west side connected like a hand in the glove
And I'm the gangsta rap nigga that the D-Boys love
Hopped out braided and valeted in the front of the club
I hit the do' niggas speak, I hit em up with a dub
And even on the east coast, I rep Hoo Bangin
Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hanging
Fin to bust a bitch to give head, that's eating the jaw
And if I let my hair down, all the hoes all hoes
Get ya hood, ya polo, ya tribe, ya?
And ain't no niggas in the game that can beat this group
Mack 10 and Connect, is the hood I claim
We do the damn thang, and it's off the chain
To the West, march
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Near park cars, after dark
Get toe start
Get toe start
[Chorus: x2]
In the song "Walk" by WC, Ice Cube, and Mack 10, the lyrics encourage people to get up and dance, specifically walking and marching to the beat. The lyrics pay homage to West Coast gangsta rap, with references to gang signs, criminal activity, and representing one's neighborhood. The song features aggressive verses from Ice Cube and Mack 10, with WC providing the chorus and ad-libs.
The opening lines of the song instruct listeners to "get you a bitch up on the floor," urging people to dance and move to the music. The lyrics then turn to gang references, with the line "Bang, crease the starch" referring to the act of starching one's khakis to make them extra crisp and sharp, a common practice among gang members. The song also references the Dub SC gang, a real-life gang based in South Central Los Angeles.
The chorus of the song repeats the words "walk" and "bitches" several times, encouraging listeners to march and dance. The final verse of the song includes references to East Coast rivalries, with Mack 10 boasting about representing Hoo Bangin, a West Coast record label, even on the East Coast. The song concludes with a repeat of the chorus and ad-libs from WC.
Overall, "Walk" is a celebration of West Coast gangsta rap and dance culture, with aggressive lyrics and heavy beats encouraging listeners to get up and move.
Line by Line Meaning
1, 2, 3, 4
Let's get started.
Get you a bitch up on the floor
Bring a girl to dance with.
You gotta get up and get down (Walk!)
Start dancing.
To the West, march
Let's move to the West.
Bang, crease the starch
Make some noise and look good.
Uh oh, here we go again
We're about to start something.
Off the chain, that Dub SC gang
We're wild and crazy, part of the Dub SC gang.
State yo name
Tell me your name.
Ice Cube motherfucker
My name is Ice Cube.
What's your name
What is your name?
Mack 10 motherfucker
My name is Mack 10.
Well bang on, swang on
Make some noise and show off.
Cause on mine I'm a G on, Dub see let a scene on
I'm a gangster, let me show you how it's done Dub SC-style.
Get my green on, with my white sling on
Get some money, wear my white gun holster.
Weather my rag in, with my khakis cuffed and dragging
Wear my bandana and baggy pants low.
Three wheels, make the heat squeal
Drive a three-wheeled car that makes a lot of noise.
This West coast shit is the shit that we built
The West Coast style is what we created.
Who want to bust with or fuck with him, and confess y'all can't fuck with it
No one can match our skills and style.
I'm out the roof with it, bang loose with it
I'm wild and crazy, and I show it off.
Dub see, from that Dub SC
Representing Dub SC.
Fo sho to make ya peeps slang off the cheese man
We're the real deal and everyone knows it.
Walk, walk
Dance, dance.
Niggas let me see you walk
Guys, show me how to dance.
Bitches let me see you walk
Girls, show me how to dance.
It's for the ghetto and the gutter every time I spit
My music represents the streets.
For niggas that walk off that funkadelic shit
For those who dance to funk music.
I just might go psycho, and grab the automatic
I might go crazy and grab my gun.
And let one off for the gang bang addicts
Shoot for my gang.
Cause I'm west side connected like a hand in the glove
I'm connected to the West side like a hand to a glove.
And I'm the gangsta rap nigga that the D-Boys love
I'm the gangsta rapper that drug dealers love.
Hopped out braided and valeted in the front of the club
I got out of my car with braided hair and valet parked in front of the club.
I hit the do' niggas speak, I hit em up with a dub
I enter the door and greet people, and hand out $20 bills.
And even on the east coast, I rep Hoo Bangin
I represent Hoo Bangin even on the East coast.
Iced out, creased khakis with a red flag hanging
Wearing lots of jewelry, ironed pants with a red bandana.
Fin to bust a bitch to give head, that's eating the jaw
Going to have sex with a girl who likes to perform oral sex.
And if I let my hair down, all the hoes all hoes
If I let my guard down, girls will want to have sex with me.
Get ya hood, ya polo, ya tribe, ya?
Represent your neighborhood, wear your polo shirt, and your crew.
And ain't no niggas in the game that can beat this group
No one can match our skills in this game.
Mack 10 and Connect, is the hood I claim
Mack 10 and Connect are the gang I belong to.
We do the damn thang, and it's off the chain
We do our thing, and it's amazing.
Calling all cars, niggas look hard
Attention everyone, we're here and we're tough.
Near park cars, after dark
Park your car nearby and stay after dark.
Get toe start
Get ready to move and dance.
It's Sunday school, I run you fools
This is easy, I'm in charge.
You ain't gone do shit
You're not going to do anything about it.
I got the flip shit, to plant
I have everything under control.
Spit it like I'm gone spit it
Say it like I'm going to say it, confidently.
Niggas want to get it, but they won't admit it
People want what I have, but they won't admit it.
I'm connected and committed
I have connections and I'm dedicated.
All the way bided, while you bullshitted
I've been patient, while you wasted time.
I'm on exhibit, like a pitbull off the chain
I'm on display, like a pitbull that's been let off its leash.
Motherfuckers gone flip out, ropes get ripped out
People will go crazy, and things will get out of control.
Niggas gone trip out, crip out, get a four-fifth out
People will freak out, get violent or get a gun.
Get bout, with a brick house, with my dick out saying fuck ya
I'll leave with a girl, showing off and saying, 'Fuck you.'
My whole career, I kept it gangsta and hustla
My entire career, I've kept it real and been a hustler.
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC
Written by: KEVIN GILLIAM, WILLIAM CALHOUN, DEDRICK ROLISON, OSHEA JACKSON
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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