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"Bobble Heads" lyrics by ANDRE NICKATINA
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"Bobble Heads"
[feat. Black C]


[Verse 1: Black C]
Call me a psycho cus I just might go
Shoot up ya block cus you're walkin' on a tight-rope
Plus I'm off that nitro, yea that's that loud pack
We don't smoke bammer so it's best that you fall back
San Francisco ball cat, you're fuckin with a Giant
Ya niggas say ya real but the real is ya lyin
[?] is what I don't do, real is what I live by
Fuck whatcha goin' through if you're tryna (tempt [?]) mine
I'm tryna get mine ballin fuck getting by
You suckas hatin' cus you fallin' like a zipline
While I sip wine with a thick bitch with thick thighs
Small waist pretty face, tryna get high
She said she like real niggas, no farce
But you're bitchmade actin worse than these broads
Goin' through they menstral, all up in ya mental
Just like a bitch ya keep dick up in ya dental
Damn

[Hook: Andre Nickatina]
It's the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I'll never fold
Cock, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
Don't tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail

[Verse 2: Black C]
You can hip, hop on the muthafuckin' jock
I'm an RBL nigga getting money 'round the clock
And these bitches don't stop when it comes to this black nigga
In the Bay, I'm a legendary rap figure
Plus a cap pealer, homie that's a fat nigga
You're not loyal to the soil you's a rat nigga
And I'm a real one, the last of a dying breed
I'm off kush muhfuckah you smoke bammer weed
I fuck with top notch bitches in that Prada wear
You fuck with low budget bitches with them bobble heads
Yea, you niggas strictly sickly
For real, you niggas can't get with me
And you can believe it or not like Ripleys
Ya boy been an underground king like Pimp C
Or like Mac Dre, or like Mr. C
I go hard on a bitch, no sympathy

[Hook: Andre Nickatina]
It's the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I'll never fold
Cock, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
Don't tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail

[Verse 3: Andre Nickatina]
You say oh God cus I'm givin' you hell
Leather jacket, adidas with them shells
You can miss me like a stray bullet
Gary Coleman on ya ass with a new Qillis
Sheeit, God-Khan but I'm still a capo
I let the weed hit me while Jimi Hendrix sang Sand Castles
I dip through the big pineapple
And if you see me real quick it's something like an eye sample

[Hook: Andre Nickatina]
It's the God Khan version, Magic, Ervin
All them suckas is crashin', burnin'
Money, gone, lookin all old
Look at my poker face, I'll never fold
Cock, reload, sellout shows
Mouse rangs and all thangs, pull out ya gold
Don't tell me about it homie, pull out ya hoes
Hammer up like Stan Burrell on bail

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