Groovin’ on a Sunday

[Intro]
Headed for the liquor store
And I'm four deep, uh, could never be five
And my homeboys know why
'Cause I got the fifteen-shot HK

[Verse 1]
Stopped at a Florin Road light on a Sunday
I got my .45 cocked for this fun day
Everybody from the Southside in they ride
Gold thangs, candy paint's hittin', lookin' nice
Some hoes pulled up in a candy pink 5-O
Top down, poundin' like Live Oaks
Should I snatch 'em, lynch 'em
Tie 'em to the bed and then pitch 'em?
I think I'll clown, hoppin' ass up off the ground
Sun shinin' and we headed for that Miller's Park
Hit C&B's on Broadway Boulevard
Ass poppin' '4's droppin'
Hoes flockin', playa haters hawkin'
Just mad 'cause I'm rich and famous
And still a gangsta, ridin' on Daynas
The Hindus still run the liquor store
And when I step in, they all say "What's up, 'Bo?"
'Cause they know it's Henn' hog
With no chaser, goin' for the dog
It's just another one of those fun days
As we groove in my 7-6 on a Sunday

[Interlude]
Groovin' in my 7-6, all on my tip
Shoulda made a right, made a left
I'm goin' down to the county
My ride got towed
But I'll be out in a minute
Back on my Vogues

[Verse 2]
It's dark time, and the park is much live
I mean, there's hoes all over the lot with that plump that's just right
And I'm gettin' play, 'cause I stay a celeb
Creased Levi's, Air Nikes, cornrows in hair
Got my strap in my pocket 'cause I can't be slippin'
Got one in the chamber and if these fools start trippin'
Then I'm off and audi, leavin' the set cloudy
White and gold Daytons, smoking on a pound of weed
Broadway's so packed, you can't get your smash on
I'm looking out for the jackers, prepared to get my blast on
Night time, red lights, hoochie mamas skin tight
Daisy Duke shorts and the Henn' got my game tight
Smooth, I love to get my groove on
Fools try to count the spokes but get moved on
Zap in my lap, gettin' much dap
From all the OG's that's on my team
Bombed out indo chronic got me numbed out, brain on stuck
Drunk as a skunk
I got my homies behind me two-deep in Burban, pervin'
Drop cut to nine rocks, hit the block servin' 'em
As we groove on a Sunday

[Outro]
Groovin' in my 7-6, letting the white and gold Daytons just spin
Zap on my lap, hand on my strap as the hoes grin
They know they can't ride for free
'Cause I'm already four-deep
You can take this number and call me on the under
And get with me later
Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6
Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6
Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6
Biatch, groovin' in my 7-6
And we on, and we on, and it's gone
Pass the blunt, pass the joint, pass the bomb
That's the bomb, G, I likes that shit
I think that's the bomb right there
I think the homies gon' be bumpin' that shit right there, boy
I'm tellin' you
The beat just slammin', man
You can tell that's Mike Mosley and Sam Bostic
Man, you can just tell that's them, man
Listen to that shit, fool
Bo just be bustin', that nigga ain't no joke, fool
Y'all can't fuck with him
Y'all niggas know y'all can't fuck with him
Don't get mad, though, it's all good
Shit, that nigga, though, man, them niggas tight
Them niggas on A.W.O.L. is tight, man
Them A.W.O.L. niggas tight
Yeah, you know it, it's goin' down
They got they foot in the door now
Damn, "The Autopsy" — that's a weird ass name, dog
I think that shit gon' go bomb, though
It's gon' go bomb