Sick Wit It

The part that I heard was;
“How do you like cashiering so far, sick wit it?”
Just to put it in context, this was a young white kid about 21 or so directing the question to his workmate at the Salvation Army on Geary Street. They were both suited up in their red vests and he had a puberty style moustache. She was Asian and a few years older, I’m guessing that she was Korean. I gathered that she was new to her job.
“Mm Hmm” she nodded after a slight pause.
Like she understood the first half of the question and didn’t manage the literal meaning of the last part but was intelligent enough to get the gist. To hear her talk, it wasn’t hard to tell that English was not her first language. I wondered why then he would embellish the question with some Bay Area rap phraseology, but there again, why do people do a lot of things?
I leave you with the lyrics to “Sick Wit It” by Mistah Fab.

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[Verse 1:]
I pull a heater may never follow a heater man.
Even though we try to smoke the weed man.
Put up, or shot up, my loot up is wassup.
Wha-wha-what would you do as I shot yo hood up.
Even jealous my weed.
I take the cups.
Thats F.A.B. not Fabulous.
What it iz,
Sick wit it it iz,
They way this money look like I'll be indepentdent for years.
Is a gang of hood niggas eatin' off this plate.
So don't come over here if you ain't from this place.
Hear me coming bout a half a block.
Got a D in my silly for doing the robot.
Catch all kinds of us.
More kinds of thugs.
They offer designer.
More Kinds of drugs.
I'm Married to the air.
Pistol under the battery,
Dopes in the air.

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone off the liqour.

[Verse 2:]
I don't need no urns.
All I need is freaks.
F.a.b. what they call me.
Worty they mouths weeds.
I do the dummy, retarded, and ride the yellow bus.
Put a dent and a father be doing hella much.
High speed in my car, call it a scraper.
Pop my pees and yours bras, come for a ripper.
I only roll wit my folks, family, and mexicans.
Run away with what I have, I'm a pedestrian.
Hit the club, and I'm mad cause they wont let us in.
Now I'm about to go bad like drunk mexicans.
You know I'm mental and sumo, but I be holding weight.
Got love for the East Coast, but this is Golden Gate.
I'm from the band PI, we don't surf talk.
Since I was a PI a PI, i do Turf Talk.(yee)
T.H.I.Z.Z.Droop-E you too hard, you need to be easy.

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour.

[E-40:]
Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka, it's real ugly.
Sk's and Ak's, in my Sentai.
Not the pretty aka's that go Skee-Skee.
But the ugly ak's that go Stoopy.
It really doesn't matter major feature or factor.
Walk up on that ass, you can have it in the bladder.
It's all about the money and the credits and the fat.
The rolls gone change, jewels and ear rings.
Turkin, drinking whiskey some.
Am I suburban, dropping off counters.
Tryina place my bids, tryna get in this bra.
Spit my lrp's, in Fairfeils much.
You can find me in the party getting spiffed and twisted.
See me in the club and I'm double fisted.
Higher than the Statue of Liberty, extra tipsy.
Playing possum, acting like your dizzy. (BIOTCH!)

[Chorus x2:]
Thizz, oh we sick wit it.
We iz, super sick wit it.
Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers.
Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour.

[Outro:]
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