My Hooptie Lyrics
| Song | My Hooptie |
| Artist | Sir Mix-A-Lot |
| Album | Seminar |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Sir Mix A Lot | |
| My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin' | |
| Heat don't work an' my girl keeps naggin' | |
| Six-nine buick, deuce keeps rollin' | |
| One hubcap 'cause three got stolen | |
| Bumper shook loose, chrome keeps scrapin' | |
| Mis-matched tires, and my white walls flakin' | |
| Hit mickey-d's, maharaji starts to bug | |
| He ate a quarter-pounder, threw the pickles on my rug | |
| Runnin', movin' tabs expired | |
| Girlies tryin' to dis 'n say my car looks tired | |
| Hit my brakes, out slid skittles | |
| Tinted back window with a bubble in the middle | |
| Who's car is it? posse won't say | |
| We all play it off when you look our way | |
| Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up the block | |
| Gotta roll this bucket, 'cause my benz is in the shop | |
| My hooptie - my hooptie | |
| Four door nightmare, trunk locks' stuck | |
| Big dice on the mirror, grill like a truck | |
| Lifters tickin', accelerator's stickin' | |
| Somethin' on my left front wheel keeps clickin' | |
| Picked up the girlies, now we're eight deep | |
| Cars barely movin', but now we got heat | |
| Made a left turn as i watched in fright | |
| My ex-girlfriend shot out my headlight | |
| She was standin', in the road, so i smashed her toes | |
| Mashed my pedal, boom, down she goes | |
| Law ain't lyin', long hairs flyin' | |
| We flipped the skeez off, dumb girl starts cryin' | |
| Baby called the cops, now i'm gettin' nervous | |
| The cops see a beeper and the suckers might serve us | |
| Hit a side street and what did we find? | |
| Some young punk, droppin' me a flip off sign | |
| Put the deuce in reverse, and started to curse | |
| Another sucker on the south side about to get hurt | |
| Homey got scared, so i got on | |
| Yeah my group got paid, but my groups still strong | |
| Posse moved north, headin for the cd | |
| Ridin' real fast so the cops don't see me | |
| Mis-matched tires got my boys uptight | |
| Two vogues on the left, uniroyal on the right | |
| Hooptie bouncin', runnin' on leaded | |
| This is what i sport when you call me big-headed | |
| I pot-hole crusher, red light rusher | |
| Musher of a brother 'cause i'm plowin' over suckers | |
| In a hooptie | |
| It's a three-ton monster, econo-box stomper | |
| Snatch your girly, if you don't i'll romp 'er | |
| Dinosaur rush, lookin' like shaft | |
| Some get bold, but some get smashed | |
| Cops say the car smokes, but i won't listen | |
| It's a six-nine deuce, so the hell with emissions | |
| Rollin' in tacoma, i could get burned | |
| (sound of automatic gunfire) betta make a u-turn | |
| Spotted this freak with immense posterior | |
| Tryin' to roll smooth through the hilltop area | |
| Brother start lettin' off, kickin' that racket | |
| Thinkin' i'm a rock star, slingin' them packets | |
| I ain't wit' dat, so i smooth eject | |
| Hit i-5 with the dope cassette | |
| Playin' that tough crew hardcore dope | |
| The tape deck broke | |
| Damn what's next, brothers in goretex | |
| Tryin' to find a spot where we could hunt for sex | |
| Found a little club called the n-c-o | |
| Military, competition. you know. | |
| I ain't really fazed, 'cause i pop much game | |
| Rolled up tough, 'cause i got much fame | |
| "how ya doin' baby, my name is mixalot" | |
| "mixalot got a benz boy, quit smokin' that rock" | |
| Ooooh, i got dissed. but it ain't no thing | |
| Runnin' that game with the home made slang | |
| Baby got ished, bremelo gip. | |
| Keep laughin' at the car and you might get clipped | |
| By a hooptie | |
| Runnin' outta gas, stuck in traffic | |
| Far left lane, throwin' up much static | |
| Input, output, carbeurator fulla soot | |
| "whatcha want me to do mix?" | |
| Push freak, push | |
| Sputter, sputter rollin' over gutters | |
| Cars dip low with hard core brothers | |
| Tank on e, pulled into arco | |
| Cops on tip for columbian cargo | |
| We fit a stereotype, that's what he said | |
| Big long car, four big black heads | |
| Cops keep jockin', grabbin' like 'gators | |
| 'bout stereotypes, i'm lookin' nuthin' like noriega | |
| Cop took my wallet, looked at my license | |
| His partner said "damn, they all look like tyson" | |
| Yes, i'm legit, so they gotta let me go | |
| This bucket ain't rollin' in snow | |
| It's my hooptie |
| zuo ci : Sir Mix A Lot | |
| My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin' | |
| Heat don' t work an' my girl keeps naggin' | |
| Sixnine buick, deuce keeps rollin' | |
| One hubcap ' cause three got stolen | |
| Bumper shook loose, chrome keeps scrapin' | |
| Mismatched tires, and my white walls flakin' | |
| Hit mickeyd' s, maharaji starts to bug | |
| He ate a quarterpounder, threw the pickles on my rug | |
| Runnin', movin' tabs expired | |
| Girlies tryin' to dis ' n say my car looks tired | |
| Hit my brakes, out slid skittles | |
| Tinted back window with a bubble in the middle | |
| Who' s car is it? posse won' t say | |
| We all play it off when you look our way | |
| Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up the block | |
| Gotta roll this bucket, ' cause my benz is in the shop | |
| My hooptie my hooptie | |
| Four door nightmare, trunk locks' stuck | |
| Big dice on the mirror, grill like a truck | |
| Lifters tickin', accelerator' s stickin' | |
| Somethin' on my left front wheel keeps clickin' | |
| Picked up the girlies, now we' re eight deep | |
| Cars barely movin', but now we got heat | |
| Made a left turn as i watched in fright | |
| My exgirlfriend shot out my headlight | |
| She was standin', in the road, so i smashed her toes | |
| Mashed my pedal, boom, down she goes | |
| Law ain' t lyin', long hairs flyin' | |
| We flipped the skeez off, dumb girl starts cryin' | |
| Baby called the cops, now i' m gettin' nervous | |
| The cops see a beeper and the suckers might serve us | |
| Hit a side street and what did we find? | |
| Some young punk, droppin' me a flip off sign | |
| Put the deuce in reverse, and started to curse | |
| Another sucker on the south side about to get hurt | |
| Homey got scared, so i got on | |
| Yeah my group got paid, but my groups still strong | |
| Posse moved north, headin for the cd | |
| Ridin' real fast so the cops don' t see me | |
| Mismatched tires got my boys uptight | |
| Two vogues on the left, uniroyal on the right | |
| Hooptie bouncin', runnin' on leaded | |
| This is what i sport when you call me bigheaded | |
| I pothole crusher, red light rusher | |
| Musher of a brother ' cause i' m plowin' over suckers | |
| In a hooptie | |
| It' s a threeton monster, econobox stomper | |
| Snatch your girly, if you don' t i' ll romp ' er | |
| Dinosaur rush, lookin' like shaft | |
| Some get bold, but some get smashed | |
| Cops say the car smokes, but i won' t listen | |
| It' s a sixnine deuce, so the hell with emissions | |
| Rollin' in tacoma, i could get burned | |
| sound of automatic gunfire betta make a uturn | |
| Spotted this freak with immense posterior | |
| Tryin' to roll smooth through the hilltop area | |
| Brother start lettin' off, kickin' that racket | |
| Thinkin' i' m a rock star, slingin' them packets | |
| I ain' t wit' dat, so i smooth eject | |
| Hit i5 with the dope cassette | |
| Playin' that tough crew hardcore dope | |
| The tape deck broke | |
| Damn what' s next, brothers in goretex | |
| Tryin' to find a spot where we could hunt for sex | |
| Found a little club called the nco | |
| Military, competition. you know. | |
| I ain' t really fazed, ' cause i pop much game | |
| Rolled up tough, ' cause i got much fame | |
| " how ya doin' baby, my name is mixalot" | |
| " mixalot got a benz boy, quit smokin' that rock" | |
| Ooooh, i got dissed. but it ain' t no thing | |
| Runnin' that game with the home made slang | |
| Baby got ished, bremelo gip. | |
| Keep laughin' at the car and you might get clipped | |
| By a hooptie | |
| Runnin' outta gas, stuck in traffic | |
| Far left lane, throwin' up much static | |
| Input, output, carbeurator fulla soot | |
| " whatcha want me to do mix?" | |
| Push freak, push | |
| Sputter, sputter rollin' over gutters | |
| Cars dip low with hard core brothers | |
| Tank on e, pulled into arco | |
| Cops on tip for columbian cargo | |
| We fit a stereotype, that' s what he said | |
| Big long car, four big black heads | |
| Cops keep jockin', grabbin' like ' gators | |
| ' bout stereotypes, i' m lookin' nuthin' like noriega | |
| Cop took my wallet, looked at my license | |
| His partner said " damn, they all look like tyson" | |
| Yes, i' m legit, so they gotta let me go | |
| This bucket ain' t rollin' in snow | |
| It' s my hooptie |
| zuò cí : Sir Mix A Lot | |
| My hooptie rollin', tailpipe draggin' | |
| Heat don' t work an' my girl keeps naggin' | |
| Sixnine buick, deuce keeps rollin' | |
| One hubcap ' cause three got stolen | |
| Bumper shook loose, chrome keeps scrapin' | |
| Mismatched tires, and my white walls flakin' | |
| Hit mickeyd' s, maharaji starts to bug | |
| He ate a quarterpounder, threw the pickles on my rug | |
| Runnin', movin' tabs expired | |
| Girlies tryin' to dis ' n say my car looks tired | |
| Hit my brakes, out slid skittles | |
| Tinted back window with a bubble in the middle | |
| Who' s car is it? posse won' t say | |
| We all play it off when you look our way | |
| Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up the block | |
| Gotta roll this bucket, ' cause my benz is in the shop | |
| My hooptie my hooptie | |
| Four door nightmare, trunk locks' stuck | |
| Big dice on the mirror, grill like a truck | |
| Lifters tickin', accelerator' s stickin' | |
| Somethin' on my left front wheel keeps clickin' | |
| Picked up the girlies, now we' re eight deep | |
| Cars barely movin', but now we got heat | |
| Made a left turn as i watched in fright | |
| My exgirlfriend shot out my headlight | |
| She was standin', in the road, so i smashed her toes | |
| Mashed my pedal, boom, down she goes | |
| Law ain' t lyin', long hairs flyin' | |
| We flipped the skeez off, dumb girl starts cryin' | |
| Baby called the cops, now i' m gettin' nervous | |
| The cops see a beeper and the suckers might serve us | |
| Hit a side street and what did we find? | |
| Some young punk, droppin' me a flip off sign | |
| Put the deuce in reverse, and started to curse | |
| Another sucker on the south side about to get hurt | |
| Homey got scared, so i got on | |
| Yeah my group got paid, but my groups still strong | |
| Posse moved north, headin for the cd | |
| Ridin' real fast so the cops don' t see me | |
| Mismatched tires got my boys uptight | |
| Two vogues on the left, uniroyal on the right | |
| Hooptie bouncin', runnin' on leaded | |
| This is what i sport when you call me bigheaded | |
| I pothole crusher, red light rusher | |
| Musher of a brother ' cause i' m plowin' over suckers | |
| In a hooptie | |
| It' s a threeton monster, econobox stomper | |
| Snatch your girly, if you don' t i' ll romp ' er | |
| Dinosaur rush, lookin' like shaft | |
| Some get bold, but some get smashed | |
| Cops say the car smokes, but i won' t listen | |
| It' s a sixnine deuce, so the hell with emissions | |
| Rollin' in tacoma, i could get burned | |
| sound of automatic gunfire betta make a uturn | |
| Spotted this freak with immense posterior | |
| Tryin' to roll smooth through the hilltop area | |
| Brother start lettin' off, kickin' that racket | |
| Thinkin' i' m a rock star, slingin' them packets | |
| I ain' t wit' dat, so i smooth eject | |
| Hit i5 with the dope cassette | |
| Playin' that tough crew hardcore dope | |
| The tape deck broke | |
| Damn what' s next, brothers in goretex | |
| Tryin' to find a spot where we could hunt for sex | |
| Found a little club called the nco | |
| Military, competition. you know. | |
| I ain' t really fazed, ' cause i pop much game | |
| Rolled up tough, ' cause i got much fame | |
| " how ya doin' baby, my name is mixalot" | |
| " mixalot got a benz boy, quit smokin' that rock" | |
| Ooooh, i got dissed. but it ain' t no thing | |
| Runnin' that game with the home made slang | |
| Baby got ished, bremelo gip. | |
| Keep laughin' at the car and you might get clipped | |
| By a hooptie | |
| Runnin' outta gas, stuck in traffic | |
| Far left lane, throwin' up much static | |
| Input, output, carbeurator fulla soot | |
| " whatcha want me to do mix?" | |
| Push freak, push | |
| Sputter, sputter rollin' over gutters | |
| Cars dip low with hard core brothers | |
| Tank on e, pulled into arco | |
| Cops on tip for columbian cargo | |
| We fit a stereotype, that' s what he said | |
| Big long car, four big black heads | |
| Cops keep jockin', grabbin' like ' gators | |
| ' bout stereotypes, i' m lookin' nuthin' like noriega | |
| Cop took my wallet, looked at my license | |
| His partner said " damn, they all look like tyson" | |
| Yes, i' m legit, so they gotta let me go | |
| This bucket ain' t rollin' in snow | |
| It' s my hooptie |
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