BOPPIN' Lyrics

Bopping, bopping, bop bop bopping

Bopping, bopping, bop bop bopping

Six Three One we bop bop bopping

Six Three One got you bop bop bopping

KMC I keep the crowd rocking

I keep the heads bopping

I keep the feet stomping

Energy always high never dropping

I keep the ladies locked in

A trance dancing shakin ass

Got the men slobbering

All because I came in clobbering

Neighborhood Reign bitch ain't no stoppin it

Kush Master Yoda I fill the room with smoke

Mic, stages, bongs and Ls I ain't no joke

I dust off losses I take another toke

Name speaks for itself

But just in case you didn't know

KMC stoned cold on the microphone

Stoned and cold with my Terry fold exposed

I could be booling in my bath robe

Or cooking in my lab coat

Either or I'm the most dope

RIP Mac Miller nobody is iller

And you clowns can't come close

Richie Rich little prep pussy assholes

I'm the rickest Rick bitch get woke

Sick ass wizard with the invisibility cloak

Burn you bitches like toast

Hear Myrtle moaning but in this life she ain't a ghost

In this life I'm just so close to the status of goat

Even if I'm not even a note

No one can compare to these lines that I've wrote

Neighborhood got your head boppin

And we fuck up the show

Kush God unstoppable it's the Master yo

631 we bop your head

Off boom bap, hip hop, rap beats

Sweep tracks clean

Get back fiends

Not thinking straight

Till I'm bopping my head

Screaming out Yoda Micken

Keep it kicking, so I can

Make these heads bop

Like a mother fucker

Fill ya up with thrills, chills

Makes me wanna notice

Get so high I'm floating

Neighborhood is goated

Yoda cuts up the vision

With precision sliced and diced

Just tryna go the distance

East coast flows

From your boy you know

Out here Boppin your head

Cause Micken rocks the show

We're the fucking Six Three One Goats

Bopping, bopping, bop bop bopping

Bopping, bopping, bop bop bopping

Six Three One we bop bop bopping

Six Three One got you bop bop bopping

Take a seat and relax

The neighborhood on the come up

Ain't no coming back

Burning up the ganja

Til I got panic attacks

Now I'm boppin off the wall

You could call me Michael Jack

Son I'm just hit you with another one

DJ Khaled but the key is in the fun

Like the proof is in the pudding

Bill Cosby on the mic

You keep sleeping on me

Keep sleeping on me