You Better Ask Somebody - Lyrics - Yo-yo

A yo-yo is a toy which in its simplest form is an object consisting of an axle connected to two disks, and a length of string looped around the axle, similar to a slender spool. It is played by holding the free end of the string known as the handle allowing gravity or the force of a throw to spin the yo-yo and unwind the string , then allowing the yo-yo to wind itself back to one's hand, exploiting its spin . This is often called "yo-yoing". First made popular in the 1920s, yo-yoing remains a popular pastime of many generations and cultures. It was first invented in ancient Greece.

[VERSE 1] I'm rough, I kicks the stuff That make you wanna take a fat puff Of the chronic, I'm hooked on phonics I'm hooked on beats, I'm hooked on blunts, I knock out fronts And I'm bout as wicked as a wicked-*** witch from the west So you and Toto better know that it's Yo-Yo I'm cute, I loot, and if you dispute Ice Cube taught a *** how to shoot Got mo' flavor than a lifesaver with a hole in the middle and ***'ll hit the fan If you don't let me get buckwild on the strap, eh I turn into Cleopatra Don't spend all day lookin for the third leg But I ain't too proud to beg Cause sometimes you gotta 'pump that hottie' Fool, you better ask somebody Ain't nobody tryin to look pretty, I gets busy (You better ask somebody) (Here we go, here we go) [VERSE 2] It's 93, Yo-Yo grew a little bit wiser (Still going) like an Energizer Heat mizer, cause I light the phillies Rich as the Beverly Hillbillies I know the time cause I clock the cash In raw-*** [???] I can get mad as a mean guy And on the other hand be sweet as a bean pie Microphone fiend, I never had a hoe flex But Shanté, trick, get the Kotex ***-head ***, don't got no ends Been wack every since Roxanne's Revenge Little dumb black girl How in the hell you gon' come and dis a black pearl? Now I gotta wetcha like John Gotti Hoe, I'm a damn pro, you better ask somebody [VERSE 3] Lookin for a 'soul brother straight from mecca' But *** try to play me like *** Woodpecker EdAd's, never needed knee pads, black So hit the road, jack Down with Tyson, hate Anita and Clarence Reportin to the devil like parents Ban rap, but still let the rock sell Fire up the cocktail Va-boom! Everyting blows up When black folks rose up Don't guess, yes, I blast your *** Sufferin succotash! L.A., New York, and my 'Motownphilly' friends We gotta turn these Boys II Men Naughty By Nature, cause by nature I'm naughty Fool, you better ask somebody [Ice Cube:] Yeah Yo-Yo, 199-Trey Givin a knock-out punch Street Knowledge, Ice Cube All that's in the house We in the house with my man QDIII And that's how we do it We got Bob behind the ***- Hey, I'm out this ***- Yo (Here we go, here we go)