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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Cold Chilling Collective
Cold Chilling Collective
Performer
The Rooks
The Rooks
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Calvin Broadus
Calvin Broadus
Songwriter
Harry Wayne Casey
Harry Wayne Casey
Songwriter
Stephen Washington
Stephen Washington
Songwriter
Andre Romell Young
Andre Romell Young
Songwriter
Steve Arrington
Steve Arrington
Songwriter
Raymond Guy Turner
Raymond Guy Turner
Songwriter
Daniel Webster
Daniel Webster
Songwriter
Mark Adams
Mark Adams
Songwriter
Richard Finch
Richard Finch
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Daniel Vayness
Daniel Vayness
Executive Producer
Victor Lee
Victor Lee
Producer
Matthew Field
Matthew Field
Cover Photography

Lyrics

With so much drama in the L-B-C It's kinda hard bein Snoop D-O-double-G But I, somehow, some way Keep comin up with funky ass shit like every single day May I, kick a little something for the G's And, make a few ends as I breeze, through Two in the mornin and the party's still jumpin Cause my momma ain't home I got bitches in the living room gettin it on And, they ain't leavin til six in the mornin So what you wanna do, I got a pocket full of rubbers and my homeboys do too So turn off the lights and close the doors But we don't love them hoes, yeah! So we gonna smoke a ounce to this G's up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind Now, that, I got me some Seagram's gin Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in Now this types of shit, happens all the time You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine Everything is fine when you listenin to the D-O-G I got the cultivating music that be captivating he Who listens, to the words that I speak As I take me a drink to the middle of the street And get to mackin to this bitch named Sadie She used to be the homeboy's lady Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please Raise up off these N-U-T's, cause you gets none of these At ease, as I mob with the Dogg Pound, feel the breeze Beeeitch, I'm just Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice Laid back With my mind on my money and my money on my mind
Writer(s): Richard Finch, Andre Young, Mich Hansen, Harry Wayne Casey, D Webster, M Adams, R Turner, S Arrington, S Washington Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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