Wrong 4 Dat - Redman, Keith Murray

This is WKYA, We Kickin Yo' Ass radio

All you motherfuckers out there that wanna get down with the pound

Put your motherfuckin pounds up, and start bustin the motherfuckers

Am I too loud for this motherfucker?

Turn me down a little bit

Yeah yeah yeah

Yo, first of all I’m a grown-ass man, pay my own bills

Stated own real, haters gon' feel

Direct Syndrome, mouth with cold tongue

You bounty hunters be on the chase for Joe Young

I won’t slip, keep pink slips to my car

I’m raw like sushi bars on bougie broads

I retrieve the money, dawg labrador

Ray Charles can see it, and Stacy Lattisaw

You get mashed out, cause your bird is peckin

Don’t be the next vinyl cut to _Urban Legend_

I can feel where you at, when I pound you up

You out of town coke rhymes, oh you clowns is up

My crew stay in the truck, can’t fit in the Porsche

If you bitches ain’t happy, then get a divorce

I’mma do what I want, cause my time is now

Grab the whole rap game, and divide it down

If I wanna roll a Jeep with a seat out the back

Bitch feet out the back, system beat out the track

Am I wrong for dat?

(If that’s what you like)

Dawg, am I wrong for dat?

(Hey, I guess not)

Yo yo, if I walk into the club with my hand on my snub

Beatin down security cause I don’t give a fuck

Am I wrong for dat?

(Mmm mmm)

Dawg, am I wrong for dat?

(Say WHAAAAT?!)

Yo Keith, yo yo Keith

I copped the whole box, went half with Reginald

Hollow tips infrareds and (?) clips came free

And you ain’t gotta believe me, fuck bein nervous

Far as I’m concerned they’re at your funeral service

What do we have here?

Snitch in despair, shoot off his ear

Have his whole body shakin in fear

Stormtrooper fires throwin lashin out flames

A few ashes, when they analyze your remains

I live in the streets, reside with the toolie

I kill you like it’s part of my religious duty

Street sweeper thug keeper sweepin thugs under the rug

Even females who think they thugs

Trigger the release of adrenaline

When I’m gangsta-trippin like the Bloods’n’Crips’n’them

Unleash the matter of energy, killin 'em

Why’d you do it?

Because I wasn’t feelin them!

If I ride through the hood, smokin a ounce of haze (uh-huh)

With a shabby haircut, pants I wore for days

Am I wrong for dat?

(I don’t think so)

C’mon bitch, am I wrong for dat?

(Say WHAAAAT?!)

Yo, if I want a fat chick that keep her toes done (uh-huh)

When they playin my song ass spill out the thong

Am I wrong for dat?

(Got that big ass)

Am I wrong for dat?

(Tchk, nooo)

I gotta, bang the boogie to that bang bang pussy

To that bang to the pussy the beat, beat

And if yo', bitch ain’t sippin that Cristal shit

Then she might be leavin with D, D

I got a hairy-ass chest, like Austin Powers

That bitch that «Stan» drowned, I fucked around with her

Act like a man, stand on your own two

Doc takin it all, fuck who it belong to