Sticky Icky Songtext
von UTP

Shit, today Friday, I ain′t got nothing to do
I'm ′bout to hit the West Coast and go and holla at Cube
They say that boy wack, he be high like Snoop
He in the hood everyday in that 6-4 coupe
That's him and that boy Game, they ain't got shit to do
Boy hit a switch on a bitch while they smokin on fruits
Probably catch me up in Compton blowin one for Eazy
Tunechi, Soulja Slim and my lil′ brother GK
If you wan′ be a big dog, nigga this how a G stay
I only know you down like Black and Morre and Enrique
All up in Jordan Downs lookin for Lay-Lay
Oh, I almost forgot that girl straight from the PJ's
Hit the three wheel motion while I′m bumpin that Dre thing
Left hand on the wheel, right hand on the AK
I ain't beefin with nobody but nobody can spray me
I′m just tryin to get some kush and holler at my baby


I'm on the West Side (on the West Side)
Smokin′ Cali (ohh, good times)
I'm on that sticky (that sticky), icky (icky), icky (icky)
I'm on the East Side (ohh)
Smokin′ Cali (smokin′ blow)
I'm on that sticky (I′m gettin' blowed), icky (I′m gettin' blowed)
Icky (woah, woah, woah, oh)

I′m on the West Coast bouncin' on them Sprewells
And I done got kinda used to bendin' corners on them three wheels
Throw some D′s on the bitch, yeah, see how that feel
Put the tint on it then you call the bitch the Batmobile
You ain′t doin' that for real, cost about a half a mill
What you on, a half a pill, the new pink daffodil?
Nigga I done trapped for real, back, look, pack the steel
You was just a laddy still, suckin′ on a Enfamil
Nigga I'm the shit for real, and I done I can get ya killed
This is how I really feel, fuck you and that′s really real
Like you can care, I'm really trill, and puffin like a cotton mill
David Copperfield, now it′s time to cop for real
Yeah I got it cocked for real, yeah I got it stocked for real
What you think I'm playin'? When I see him, I′ma pop for real
Nigga go ′head pop ya pill, 'cause ain′t nothin poppin here for you
So ain't no sense in you stoppin here


I′m on the West Side (on the West Side)
Smokin' Cali (ohh, good times)
I′m on that sticky (that sticky), icky (icky), icky (icky)
I'm on the East Side (ohh)
Smokin' Cali (smokin′ blow)
I′m on that sticky (I'm gettin′ blowed), icky (I'm gettin′ blowed)
Icky (woah, woah, woah, oh)

No matter where I'm at, I usually have me a sack
Of some good kill that just might peel ya head back
I bring a nice bag of bud, even cross the border
We call our shit coffee but we don′t dip it in that water
Even if you hit it softly, you'll be coughin and chokin
We smokin like they do in L.A., Seattle and Oakland
Humboldt County, Canada, you know they have it
The weed sticks to the 'frigerator like a magnet
I don′t have to buy much, some people they give me presents
They say, "You can have it all, just smoke one with me, Devin"
I don′t mind if I do, I go buy me some brew
I'm much obliged to sit back and get high wit′chu
I got sweets, got blunts, got papers
Got a bong, even got a vapor
Riser, I stay higher than the average, I keep cabbage
My friend, especially when...

I'm on the West Side (on the West Side)
Smokin′ Cali (ohh, good times)
I'm on that sticky (that sticky), icky (icky), icky (icky)
I′m on the East Side (ohh)
Smokin' Cali (smokin' blow)
I′m on that sticky (I′m gettin' blowed), icky (I′m gettin' blowed)
Icky (woah, woah, woah, oh)