Way, way, way, we way back in the days the year, 1980
Had to get a job, had to make some money-ney
Picked up a pen and a pad
Dropped reality never thinking that I would live to see the day I'd rock my own CD

We used to do the dance we called obie-obie
Now S.T.P. 1993, so Hollywood get out my way
My mom's words seems like yesterday
Love Jesus, don't forget to pray
She must have gone with the boss D.J. right?
And feelin though, skinny coming with the nine millimetres

'Cause he who has the money has the authority
And respect to the man with the Uzi
The eight oh eight kick is on my hit list
And this beat's cooking like an Ital Dish
It wasn't hard for me to do, it was so easy
Because to me loops loops tight go naturally
Mom's words seem like yesterday

Now in '94 we got an S.T.P.
A half pack of smokes, and oh yes, and Sammy
A fifteen pack of Old Milwaukee
A dalmatian and a girlfriend
But I ain't got no money-ne-ne-ne

The eight oh eight is within my reach
Sublime beats are comin' straight from long beach
If you think that Hollywood
Didn't get what he deserved
Call eight oh eight kit to get served