Way Down South - Lyrics - Your Man - Josh Turner

Title: Way Down South
Album: Your Man
Artist: Josh Turner
Composer(s): Josh Turner

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Lyric:
I grew up workin' on a farm, way down south
I went to school against my will, way down south
I kissed girls and I shot squirrels, out behind my house
I learned a lot about this world, way down south

I went to church, sang a lot of hymns, way down south
I learned to work on my pickup truck, way down south
I played my guitar under the stars, out behind our house
You will always find my heart, way down south

Clothes on a clothes line, hangin' in the sunshine
A garden growin' in the ground
Country music on the radio, talk about a good ol' sound

People drivin' pass when I'm cuttin' grass, wavin' at every single one
That's the way it's done when you come from, way down south
Way down south

Swimmin' in the creek with all my friends, way down south
Prayin' them days would never end, way down south
Give me a worm and a fishin' pole, I'll pull a fish on out
Those memories will never get old, way down south

Clothes on a clothes line, hangin' in the sunshine
A garden growin' in the ground
Country music on the radio, talk about a good ol' sound

People drivin' pass when I'm cuttin' grass, wavin' at every single one
That's the way it's done when you come from, way down south
That's the way it's done when you come from, way down south
Way down south, way down south

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Wanna Be A Baller - Lyrics - Sittin' Fat Down South - Lil' Troy

Title: Wanna Be A Baller
Album: Sittin' Fat Down South
Artist: Lil' Troy
Composer(s): Troy Birklett, T Prejean, Yungstar Willie Anserson, Hawk Bruce Isaac Rhodes

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Lyric:
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money then fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

I'ma baller, I'ma twenty inch crawler
Blades on Impala, diamond rottweiller
I, 10 hauler, not a leader not follower
Break these boys off I'ma twenty inch crawler

Bust a left, a right, I'm outta sight, I'm throwed
I'm bouncin' off the road, I'm in a modem with them foe dem
Tiny tune hop out my big body form chain
With the Chong, can't forget Moet along

I'm hot, find me lookin' good, diamonds against my wood
Man it's understood got money in my hood
I'm pushing, big body can't stop me
For the nine, eight got to sell a million copy

I'ma crawl slow puffin' on the Optimo hit the sto'
I'ma go real slow puffin' indo out the do'
I'ma lit the stash green, man, I'm lookin' clean
Want remote control screens with ice bezeltynes

Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

Big ballin', smashin', makin' my ends
Smokin' big killa, gettin' high in the Benz
Big ballin', smashin', makin' my ends
Smokin' big killa, gettin' high in the Benz

In the wind smoke goes as I crawl down on Vogues
Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose
Yo eyes, get froze, as you see my low
Candy red, two-do', let my top down slow

Hittin', my remote, sittin', in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit, as I get high
From K.C. to H-Town, connectin' South Side

Now we worldwide, watch me high side
Fat Pat blowin' killa, can't be denied
187 thugs, oh yeah, we got love
Blowin' sticky green we flow through and above

Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

Sittin' Fat Down South, rollin' Benz on blocks
Mo' scrilla I got, signin' with Shortstop
And that's for real, so tell me how you feel
To make a million dollars out my first record deal

Shortstop puttin' up your motherfuckin' ear
Really, really don't give a fuck and I ain't drinkin' on no beer
Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride
Trunk hit fo' life baby it's South Side

We on a fuckin' mission Expedition Navigator
That's how we be ridin', alligator suitcasin'
Puttin' it in your face and that's for real
Shinin' harder than the grill it's the player Lil' Will

Down with the 2-Low, Yungstar be a thug
So nigga, nigga what? I'm down with Mo'Thugs
Mo'Thugs an' da Bone, you know it's goin' down
Represent that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound

Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

I gots to get better man, it gots to move on
Switched from Motorola to a PrimeCo phone
Broke in two chrome, now you know no dope pigeon
Used to count my spoke, now these hoes count my inches

Had to get older, man, it got colder
I done got grown and got a chip on my shoulder
Licks in Kuwait, got links in Pakistan
Boys don't understand virtual reality Caravan

Double doors, marble floors, naked hoes around me
Every time I'm comin' out, niggaz they wanna sign me
Got the Lil' Will diamond griller's [unverified]
Blaze in the Benz and you can't forget Den-Den

Boobie diamond Ruby's, I'm watchin' on a movie
Drop the top it's cotton and you know I'm in a jacuzzi
Bourban and I'm swervin', man it's gettin' hot
My last name Lemmon, drive my tight 'um off the lot, David Taylor

Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

I hit the highway, everything's my way, I parley
Everyday all day, ain't no way
Boys can't stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop, chop, chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win 'bout to close up shop

Show stoppin' dead end, pimp the pen once again
Peep the message I send
Take these levels that you devils can't comprehend
Big bout it Benz as I floss through the south
Big blue lens now whatcha talkin' about?

Close yo' mouth as I settle all scores
Scream and shout my similes and metaphors
Mansion doors I constantly close
All you hoes go and take off your clothes
Lord knows ain't no time to play
Commence to fuckin' and-a suckin' on the H.A.W.K.

Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah

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Down South Funk - Lyrics - Redman

Title: Down South Funk
Artist: Redman
Composer(s): D Smith, Eric Sermon, R Walters, K Murray, Reggie Noble

Lyric:
All the way to motherfuckin' Georgia
[Incomprehensible] upto Tennessee
To motherfuckin' Texas
To North motherfuckin' Carolina
Yeah, South fuckin' Carolina
Yeah, deep down, gritty Alabama
Funk for your funkin' ass, nigga
Ha ha, barefoot walkin' motherfuckers

Yo, guess who's 'bout to stomp tonight?
Three seniors, rockin' the mic, catchin' misdemeanors
So charge us with what whatever you feel
Balls of steel, clappin' those with rap deals
Fuck hot, I'm lukewarm and still perform like a champ
Battle 'bout, airing your ass out
So who's dropping shit on what day? My click's the greatest
Chill or feel the effect of hiatus

Shit shuts down when the squad's around
It gets thinner, it's hexed like white man from town
Three the hard way can't be touched
My style's too faraway, to capture, even with help from N.A.S.A.
I'm what they call, a living legend, sha pow
That's what they call, a Mac-11, sha pow
There's two on the way down, blaow blaow
Here's two more, blaow blaow nigga

Is y'all niggaz down to ride?
(Man listen)
Would you kill for your life?
(Man listen)
Can you get busy all night?
(Man listen)
(Man listen)

I got the down south funk when I clown out punk ass
Police wanna call dogs and sound off pumps
I short your Blaupunkt's if you thump my tape
Yo dial funk if you're mo' stiff than Riker's Isle bunks
Get out your seat, E, spit out the beat
The tracks plow underground concrete out the streets
From baldies to fades, when I rock M.C.'s
Wave more flags than Puerto Rican Day parade

And give up, I got the rare footage, of fiends walkin' barefooted
Off my rhyme don't dare cook it
You might fall in to intervene and New Jacks
And they girl become pookie and that, prom queen
That body bag won't fit you tonight
You wanna blow up? Drop the mic, stick to the pipe
Hand to hand my crew'll cripple your click in a fight
Take my tapes way down south and triple the price

Step up on the scene like, "Whazzup? Hey sugah"
Before you cock-tease Doc, how that cash put up?
And only way I stop til your click say when
They had enough, 'cause I could bump to six A.M.

Is y'all niggaz down to ride?
(Man listen)
Would you kill for your life?
(Man listen)
Can you get busy all night?
(Man listen)
(Man listen)

My life is a rap, each song is a flashback
Of antagonizing anxiety attacks
The beat hits the ground and the earth cracks
Niggaz be like, "Oh no not them!", yeah we back
With rhythmatic articulation, godforsaken
Sick manifestations, pump pump in your face then
The lyrical force that I put in a rhyme
Will hit you with more power than a molecule enzyme

No matter who, what, when, where, how, I'll lay you down
With a sick illed out fictitious style
Yo, we all represent the hood, the only difference
Between us is that we make this shit look good
Programmable annual slammable
You light as a rock and I cram to understand you
So for niggaz on a mission kissin' ass and dissin'
We get even like an ambidextrous, man listen

Is y'all niggaz down to ride?
(Man listen)
Would you kill for your life?
(Man listen)
Can you get busy all night?
(Man listen)
(Man listen)

Is y'all niggaz down to ride?
(Man listen)
Would you kill for your life?
(Man listen)
Can you get busy all night?
(Man listen)
(Man listen)

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Island Of No Return - Lyrics - Billy Bragg

Title: Island Of No Return
Artist: Billy Bragg
Composer(s): Billy Bragg

Lyric:
Digging all day and digging all night
To keep my foxhole out of sight
Digging into dinner on a plate on my knees
The smell of damp webbing in the morning breeze

Fear in my stomach, fear in the sky
I eat my dinner with a weary eye
After all this it won't be the same
Messing around on Salisbury plain

Pick up your feet, fall in, move out
We're going to a party way down south
Me and the corporal out on a spree
Damned from here to eternity

I can already taste the blood in my mouth
We're going to a party way down south

I hate this flat land, there's no cover
For sons and fathers and brothers and lovers
I can take the killing, I can take the slaughter
But I don't talk to Sun reporters

I never thought that I would be
Fighting fascists in the southern sea
I saw one today and in his hand
Was a weapon that was made in Birmingham

Pick up your feet, fall in, move out
We're going to a party way down south
Me and the corporal out on a spree
Damned from here to eternity

I can already taste the blood in my mouth
We're going to a party way down south

I wish Kipling and the Captain were here
To record our pursuits for posterity
Me and the corporal out on a spree
Damned from here to eternity, oh

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Country Cousins - Lyrics - Ear Drum - Talib Kweli

Title: Country Cousins
Album: Ear Drum
Artist: Talib Kweli
Composer(s): Fonce Mizell, Raheem Devaughn, Larry Mizell, Talib Kweli Greene, Bernard James Freeman, Chad L. Butler

Lyric:
Yo son, what the deal, son? What's really hood, son?
The word is bond, shit is real, shit is real
Yo son, this block is dead
Nigga need to go over here and pop off real quick
Yo, I gotta get that guap by all means
You know what I'm sayin', son?

Growin' up in Brooklyn, shit
I thought that everybody talked this way
Raised on Rakim and Run-DMC
So I thought that everybody 'Walked This Way'

We fresh, we chill, we def, we ill
It's just some things I was taught to say
And every Saturday morning
I watched cartoons with a bowl of Frosted Flakes

The puberty came, started hittin' them cuties with game
And the truancy came
Started cuttin' in just class, I was comin' all fast, I was new to game
Used to playin' on TV courtesy of video music box
Plus knew a lot of hustlas, goin' O.T., comin' back with the new hip hop

Like E-40 holding down the yay , N.W.A. in L.A.
OutKast from the A-Town, way down in Houston, they play the UGK
I walk and talk kinda fast and thought of as a New York kinda rhymer
But must New Yorkers got family in South and North Carolina

L.A. is little Alabama
They walk and they talk with a country grammar
And you think everybody else sound country
So they started callin' 'em Bamas

Down south where we buy them hammers
Down south where we sell them drugs
Down south where life is cheap
Where they quick to fill you with them slugs

It's nothin', I'm from New York but I got country cousins
It's nothin', you stay connected by the slang you bustin'
Want it simply put? You can't rip me
When I spit for the set, everyone free
I'ma underground king, nigga Pimp C free
Word up to my man Bun B, what?

It's nothin', I'm from New York but I got country cousins
It's nothin', you stay connected by the slang you bustin'
The things you bustin', the game you hustlin', the days you're cuttin'
The flame you cuffin' and the lames you snuffin', your name is nothin'

Growin' up in P.A., I knew nobody out there talked like us
Nothin' but that county slang, what up, dog? What up, cuzz?
Late night you see us guzzlin' 40's, menthols, wine and weed
Sittin' on the back porch, gettin' zooted, feelin' fine indeed

Listenin' to Eric Band, Rakim or EPMD
Cool C and Steady B, plus that Public Enemy
Not to mention N.W.A., DJ Quik and MC Eiht
Down south we listen to it all, we didn't discriminate

Then along came Geto Boys, Raheem and the Royal Flush
Rap-A-Lot Records based out in Houston, represents for us
OG style, they cars, ditch that 4 and too much trouble
Our squad is gangsta nigga, put it down for H-Town on the double

So I said it's time to hustle, got down with my brother C
Put together UGK and shit, the rest is history
We make hits by the dozen, put it down when they said we wasn't
Trust me it's nothin', just another day in the life for country cousins

It's nothin', I'm from New York but I got country cousins
It's nothin', you stay connected by the slang you bustin'
Want it simply put? You can't rip me
When I spit for the set, everyone free
I'ma underground king, nigga Pimp C free
Word up to my man Bun B, what?

It's nothin', I'm from New York but I got country cousins
It's nothin', you stay connected by the slang you bustin'
The things you bustin', the game you hustlin', the days you're cuttin'
The flame you cuffin' and the lames you snuffin', your name is nothin'

In Brooklyn, New York, I'm down with Large and Marl
Back in P.A.T., man, we be sippin' the barre
I'm down with J from Houston and I think it should be
But when I'm out in L.A., I fuck with Ice-T

$hort Dog is my OG, we been down forever
Taught me the game, lane to lane, and keep my pimpin' together
Niggaz don't understand by far back in the day
It was 'mazin' and my brother put me up on Black Star

Start as blacks off the news, I weighed
'Cause we isolate ourselves and give our ghetto pass away
My niggaz passed away in an unreal way
They mommas' depleted
I'm just tryna make sure that their kids straight

I'm on the Chitalin tour with my mic in my hand
Shittin' on these jealous niggaz in the new world clan
I wouldn't trade it for nothin', only a crazy man would
I represent for the whole south, I made it just for my hood
The pimpin's good

I got cousins, country cousins
Like blood that's thicker than water, down dirty 'cross the border
I got cousins, country cousins
Like blood that's thicker than water, down dirty 'cross the border
In my country cousins

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When It'S Sleepy Time Down South - Lyrics - Dean Martin

Title: When It'S Sleepy Time Down South
Artist: Dean Martin
Composer(s): C Muse, Leon Rene, Otis Rene

Lyric:
Pale moon shining on the fields below
Folks are crooning songs soft and low
Needn't tell me so because I know
It's sleepy time down South

Soft winds blowing through the pine wood trees
Folks down there live a life of ease
When old mammy falls upon her knees
It's sleepy time down south

Steamboats on the river a coming, a going
Splashing the night away
Hear those banjos ringing, the people are singing
They dance 'til break of day, hey, hey

Dear old Southland with his dreamy songs
Takes me back there where I belong
How I'd love to be in my mammy's arms
When it's sleepy time way down South

Dear old southland with his dreamy songs
Take me back there where I belong
How I'd love to be in my mammy's arms
When it's sleepy time down South
Sleepy time down South

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e8c96f1b95d24a9ec36e0d3df3da7b85

Ho Down - Lyrics - Watermelon Chicken & Gritz - Nappy Roots

Title: Ho Down
Album: Watermelon Chicken & Gritz
Artist: Nappy Roots
Composer(s): Michael Caren, Edward Harris, Brian Scott, James Chambers, William Rahsaan Hughes, Eddy Senay, Melvin E Adams, Cortez M Murray

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
It was a ho-down, another ho-down
It was a ho-down, another ho-down

Walked into the club and farted
Damn! Look at shawty off in the cut actin' naughty
Eye contact, made sure that she saw me
Said y'all, don't get it twisted like I'm ballin'

Down south stripper from New Orleans, thick as mud
Baby show me love, with a little tittie rub
Said, "Hit me later on baby, maybe we can what?"
Said, "Sound like a plan" wit my hand on her butt

But shit hit the fan sho' nuff, nigga hold up
Baby doll had a man, matta fact was a soldier
Ain't that a beyotch! He was sittin' on the sofa
Smokin' on some doja, tryna see some exposure

Had the whole spot sold up, legs tired
Bar done closed up, all of a sudden her man showed up
Automobiles, planes, and locomotives
Train with the focus see both ran through hunger

Tag-teamed that beyotch, then I called my niggaz over
They smashed in the 'Lac, popped that twat like a soda
Fuckin' with his wife so you know when I ain't sober
And niggaz in the back seat with the freak in the Nova, it was a ho-down

I can't believe that she's real, it was a ho-down
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew, it was a ho-down
You would be down in there too, another ho-down

Uh, now peep game of a star, stepped out the car
Walked through the door, checked the bitch at the bar
Eyin' her down, while I split my cigar
Can I offer you a drink or some dick in the park?

You know I'm just sayin' that to get you mad
But you knowin' damn well I wanna hit yo' ass
Yo I ain't the type of nigga that be jumpin' the gun
But you lookin' like a dime piece and I'm huntin'' for one

What's ya name? Nah, better yet, what's ya game?
Wanna ride in the Navigator, switchin' four lanes?
Or chill up in the bedroom, sniffin' cocaine?
Said she's the type of girl to get down with no shame

And everything I said before was no thang
We ran outside, and jumped in the ride
Next thing I know I'm gettin' head while I drive
Eyes open wide, down 65, it's a ho-down

I can't believe that she's real, it was a ho-down
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew, it was a ho-down
You would be down in there too, another ho-down

I can't believe that she's real, it was a ho-down
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew, it was a ho-down
You would be down in there too, another ho-down

It was a ho-down, I knew it was all great
When the hoe caught me late in room 508
Oh, she got live on tape, the price was low-rate
Plus she had a nice showcase, you thought she was ya soul mate?

Just because she got some shove in her can
Doesn't mean your 'sposed to go and fall in love with her man
Kissin' and huggin' and actin', in love with her, man
Takin' her out to restaurants and, rubbin' her hands

If you knew what I knew, you wouldn't do what you do
But it's true that you, had no clue what she do
'Cuz you trust her through thick and thin
You missed it when, she was gettin' live offa fifth of Gin

Get rammed in by me, while she lick my friends
When she finally came home you probably kissed her then, lame-o
The more you tried to claim the hoe was an angel
The quicker I realized the freak was a stank-hoe, it was a ho-down

I can't believe that she's real
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew
You would be down in there too, it was a ho-down

I can't believe that she's real, it was a ho-down
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew, it was a ho-down
You would be down in there too, another ho-down

I can't believe that she's real, it was a ho-down
The way she makes me feel, another ho-down
If you knew what I knew, it was a ho-down
You would be down in there too, another ho-down

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Truth No. 2 - Lyrics - Top Of The World Tour - Dixie Chicks

Title: Truth No. 2
Album: Top Of The World Tour
Artist: Dixie Chicks
Composer(s): Patty Griffin

Lyric:
You don't like the sound of the truth
Coming from my mouth
You say that I lack the proof
Well baby that might be so

I might get to the end of my life
Find out everyone was lying
I don't think that I'm afraid anymore
Say that I would rather die trying

Who oh, swing me way down south
Sing me something brave from your mouth
And I'll bring you pearls of water on my hips
And the love in my lips, all the love from my lips

This time when he swung the bat
And I found myself laying flat I wondered
What a way to spend a dime
What a way to use the time, ain't it baby?

I looked at my reflection in the window walking past
And I saw a stranger
Just so scared all the time it makes me one more reason
Why the world's dangerous

Who oh swing me way down south
Sing me something brave from your mouth
And I'll bring you pearls of water on my hips
And the love in my lips, all the love from my lips

You don't like the sound of the truth
Coming from my mouth
You say that I lack the proof
Well baby that might be so

Tell me what's wrong with having a little faith
In what you're feeling in your heart
Why must we be so afraid
And always so far apart

Who oh, swing me way down south
Sing me something brave from your mouth
And I'll bring you pearls of water on my hips
And the love in my lips, all the love from my lips

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062cb7d6f8e5c7736e1817e8656ac7f8

The Way We Ball - Lyrics - Undaground Legend - Lil' Flip

Title: The Way We Ball
Album: Undaground Legend
Artist: Lil' Flip
Composer(s): Edward Charles, Anthony Sears, Wesley Weston, Estil Hobbs, Duane Hobbs

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Hey, ho
(This is the way we ball)
Ah ha, Houston, Texas
(This is the way we ball)
Ah ha
(This is the way we ball)
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm Lil' Flip, I'm back on the scene, freestyle king
Brand new piece, same Byzentine
I'm still sippin' lean, I'm still watchin' "Scream"
I love wearin' platinum, but my favorite color's green
I'm hoppin' out Ferraris, my house is three stories
I'm still independent 'cause Jive couldn't afford me
The meetings were boring, for real I was snoring
The VP was fine, yeah she made me kinda horny

But that's another story, let's get back to the topic
Right now me and Hump negotiatin' to buy the Rockets
We might buy the Comets, name it, I done it
If you see it and want it, buy it, own it
This is for my homies, Pat and DJ Screw
RIP dawg 'cause I really miss you
Boy I'm a stay true, until the day I fall
East coast and West coast, this is how we ball
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm thinkin', designer clothes and fashion shows
I'm thinkin', all my albums goin' platinum and gold
I'm thinkin', Jaguars and a Bentley Rolls
I'm thinkin', bein' rich before I'm 24
I'm feelin', wood grain all in my tinted truck
I'm fillin', all my teeth up with princess cuts
I'm fillin', jugs up, no more empty cups
I'm feelin', like I'm worth 10 million bucks

And I know, I wear a watch, yo it was made from a game
And I know, my rims chop like the blades on a plane
And I know, yo baby mama still givin' me brain
And I know, that ain't platinum, that's a silvery chain
And I make, nothin' but hits when I step in the booth
And I make, rainbows from the sun reflect on my tooth
And I make, DVD's light up in my Coupe
I think, I feel, I know, I'm making money, how 'bout you?
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm swangin', about to rip the kizzerp, sippin' on my syzzerp
If you buy first from me then you just bought a dessert
Swangas on my whizzeel, platinum in my grizzeel
Me and Doby D stay blowin' on some kizzeel
I'm higher than a hizzeel, mind on a mizzell
Southside of H-town show me how you fizzeel

Now you see we ball, now you see we rich
I represent the legendary Screwed Up Click
I wreck I-45, I wreck 2 Screw tapes
I'm 3 wheelin', poppin' trunk, goin' down Fuqua
So move out of my way 'cause I'm ridin' double R
MJ right behind me in a Lexus bubble car
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

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97b90f9500912d2c4e996ef345c48127

The Way We Ball (Remix) - Lyrics - Undaground Legend - Lil' Flip

Title: The Way We Ball (Remix)
Album: Undaground Legend
Artist: Lil' Flip
Composer(s): Edward Charles, Anthony Sears, Wesley Weston, Estil Hobbs, Duane Hobbs

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Hey, ho
(This is the way we ball)
Ah ha, Houston, Texas
(This is the way we ball)
Ah ha
(This is the way we ball)
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm Lil' Flip, I'm back on the scene, freestyle king
Brand new piece, same Byzentine
I'm still sippin' lean, I'm still watchin' "Scream"
I love wearin' platinum, but my favorite color's green
I'm hoppin' out Ferraris, my house is three stories
I'm still independent 'cause Jive couldn't afford me
The meetings were boring, for real I was snoring
The VP was fine, yeah she made me kinda horny

But that's another story, let's get back to the topic
Right now me and Hump negotiatin' to buy the Rockets
We might buy the Comets, name it, I done it
If you see it and want it, buy it, own it
This is for my homies, Pat and DJ Screw
RIP dawg 'cause I really miss you
Boy I'm a stay true, until the day I fall
East coast and West coast, this is how we ball
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm thinkin', designer clothes and fashion shows
I'm thinkin', all my albums goin' platinum and gold
I'm thinkin', Jaguars and a Bentley Rolls
I'm thinkin', bein' rich before I'm 24
I'm feelin', wood grain all in my tinted truck
I'm fillin', all my teeth up with princess cuts
I'm fillin', jugs up, no more empty cups
I'm feelin', like I'm worth 10 million bucks

And I know, I wear a watch, yo it was made from a game
And I know, my rims chop like the blades on a plane
And I know, yo baby mama still givin' me brain
And I know, that ain't platinum, that's a silvery chain
And I make, nothin' but hits when I step in the booth
And I make, rainbows from the sun reflect on my tooth
And I make, DVD's light up in my Coupe
I think, I feel, I know, I'm making money, how 'bout you?
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

I'm swangin', about to rip the kizzerp, sippin' on my syzzerp
If you buy first from me then you just bought a dessert
Swangas on my whizzeel, platinum in my grizzeel
Me and Doby D stay blowin' on some kizzeel
I'm higher than a hizzeel, mind on a mizzell
Southside of H-town show me how you fizzeel

Now you see we ball, now you see we rich
I represent the legendary Screwed Up Click
I wreck I-45, I wreck 2 Screw tapes
I'm 3 wheelin', poppin' trunk, goin' down Fuqua
So move out of my way 'cause I'm ridin' double R
MJ right behind me in a Lexus bubble car
(This is the way we ball)

And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)
And we like to floss, all my diamonds gloss
I represent the dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty south
(This is the way we ball)
And we ridin' blades, Jags and Escalades
We third coast boys but we always gettin' paid
(This is the way we ball)

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5b0abe9f4f0fd711123937a222ad39cb

Wanna Be A Balla - Lyrics - Lil' Troy

Title: Wanna Be A Balla
Artist: Lil' Troy
Composer(s): Willie Anserson, Troy Birklett, Hawk T Prejean, Bruce Isaac Rhodes, Yungsta

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

I'm a baller, I'ma twenty inch crawler
Blades on Impala, diamond Rottweiler
I-10 hauler, not a leader, not follower
Break these boys off, I'm a twenty inch crawler

Bust a left, a right, I'm outta sight, I'm throwed
I'm bouncin off the road, I'm in a modem with them fo' dem
Tiny tune, hop out my big body form
Chain with the Chong, can't forget Moet along

I'm hot, find me lookin' good, diamonds against my wood
Man, it's understood, got money in my hood
I'm pushing, big body can't stop me
For the nine eight got to sell a million copy

I'ma crawl slow puffin' on the Optimo, hit the sto'
I'ma go real slow, puffin indo out the do'
I'ma lit the stash green, man I'm lookin' clean
Want remote control screens with ice bezeltynes

Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

Big ballin', smashin', makin' my ends
Smokin' big killa, gettin' high in the Benz
Big ballin', smashin', makin' my ends
Smokin' big killa, gettin' high in the Benz

In the wind, smoke goes as I crawl down on Vogues
Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose
Yo' eyes, get froze, as you see my low
Candy red, two do', let my top down slow

Hittin' my remote, sittin' in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit, as I get high
From K.C. to H-Town, connectin' SouthSide

Now we worldwide, watch me high side
Fat Pat blowin' killa, can't be denied
187 thugs, oh yeah, we got love
Blowin' sticky green we flow through and above

Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

Sittin' fat down south, rollin' Benz on blocks
Mo' scrilla I got, signin' with Shortstop
And that's for real, so tell me how you feel
To make a million dollars out my first record deal

Shortstop, puttin' up your motherfuckin' ear
Really really don't give a fuck and I ain't drinkin' on no beer
Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride
Trunk hit fo' life, baby, it's SouthSide

We on a fuckin' mission, Expedition Navigator
That's how we be ridin', alligator suitcasin'
Puttin' it in your face and that's for real
Shinin' harder than the grill, it's the player Lil' Will

Down with the 2-Low, Yungstar be a thug
So nigga, nigga what? I'm down with Mo'Thugs
Mo'Thugs an' da Bone, you know it's goin' down
Represent that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound

Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

I gots to get better, man, it gots to move on
Switched from Motorola to a PrimeCo phone
Broke in two chrome, now you know no dope pigeon
Used to count my spoke, now these hoes count my inches

Had to get older, man, it got colder
I done got grown and got a chip on my shoulder
Licks in Kuwait, got links in Pakistan
Boys don't understand virtual reality Caravan

Double doors, marble floors, naked hoes around me
Every time I'm comin' out, niggaz they wanna sign me
Got the Lil' Will diamond grillers [unverified]
Blaze in the Benz and you can't forget Den-Den

Boobie diamond rubies, I'm watchin' on a movie
Drop the top, it's cotton, and you know I'm in a Jacuzzi
Bourbon and I'm swervin', man, it's getting' hot
My last name Lemmon, drive my tight'um off the lot, David Taylor

Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

I hit the highway, everything's my way, I parlay
Everyday all day, ain't no way
Boys can't stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop, chop, chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win, 'bout to close up shop

Showstoppin' dead end, pimp the pen once again
Peep the message I send
Take these levels that you devils can't comprehend
Big 'bout it Benz as I floss through the south
Big blue lens now whatcha talkin' about?

Close yo' mouth as I settle all scores
Scream and shout my similes and metaphors
Mansion doors, I constantly close
All you hoes, go and take off your clothes
Lord knows, ain't no time to play
Commence to fuckin' and a suckin' on the H.A.W.K.

Wanna be a balla, shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin' laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta sprayed by Ike

I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there's got to be a better way
A better way, better way, yeah ay

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9b99115e5382e7eb633328c1024e37ef

Southern Girl - Lyrics - Erykah Badu

Title: Southern Girl
Artist: Erykah Badu
Composer(s): Rozell M Brown, Erica Wright

Lyric:
Yeah, show you right
Come on

Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Twang, twang, twang, tong

I'm from the south
I'm a southern girl
Home of the burning church
Don't know much about the world

Home of the pocket stones
Home of the booty songs
Home of the finger wave that lasts
All night long

Home of the on and on
Home of the dominoes
Home of the two piece and the cat fight
Home of the teeth is gold

Home of the never miss
Home of the platinum hits
I'm a southern girl
Southern girl

Countrified
Everything I eat is fried
Gotta southern draw
I'm so country y'all

Well that's way down south
Yeah it's way down low
Check my southern fried style
And my southern flow
Southern girl

Countrified
I like my tofu fried
Got about a hundred friends
That ain't caught on the trends

Don't know about the Internet
Don't know about the radio
Don't know about the television
All I know is about my flow

[Incomprehensible] me out
To make money for the house
Hooked up with my boy Rahzel
I sure hope the record sales
Southern girl

Southern girl, and I'll rock your world
Fly as a bumble bee, buzz
Can't nobody f*** with me
I'm a southern girl

From way down south
Got a dirty wave
'Cause I got a dirty mouth
Dirty south

Southern girl
Twain tiki lang tang tang tiki tiki
Southern girl
Twain twain twain ta tong
Sounding like a southern girl

Twain tiki tang, tang tatang ding ding
Southern girl
Ding ding a ding dong, D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A.D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A.D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A. yes
Yes I
Get 'em chicken out the oven

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18b4d0344f18e2e15bd28d170712f80c

South Of The Border (Down Mexico Way) - Lyrics - Baja Sessions - Chris Isaak

Title: South Of The Border (Down Mexico Way)
Album: Baja Sessions
Artist: Chris Isaak
Composer(s): Jimmy Kennedy, Michael Carr

Lyric:
South of the border, down Mexico way
That's where I fell in love, where stars above came out to play
And now as I wander, my thoughts ever stray
South of the border, down Mexico way

She was a picture, in old Spanish lace
Just for a tender while I kissed the smile upon her face
For it was fiesta, and love had its day
South of the border, down Mexico way

Then she sighed as she whispered manana
Never dreaming that we were parting
And I lied as I whispered manana
For our tomorrow never came

South of the border, I rode back one day
There in a veil of white by the candlelight, she knelt to pray
The mission bells told me, that I shouldn't stay
South of the border, down Mexico way

Bye, good bye

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5f4c25151ffe3ccbcaf996673a17487c

Southern Gul - Lyrics - Erykah Badu

Title: Southern Gul
Artist: Erykah Badu
Composer(s): Rozell M Brown, Erica Wright

Lyric:
Yeah, show you right
Come on

Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Sing a lang sang, sing a lang song
Twang, twang, twang, tong

I'm from the south
I'm a southern girl
Home of the burning church
Don't know much about the world

Home of the pocket stones
Home of the booty songs
Home of the finger wave that lasts
All night long

Home of the on and on
Home of the dominoes
Home of the two piece and the cat fight
Home of the teeth is gold

Home of the never miss
Home of the platinum hits
I'm a southern girl
Southern girl

Countrified
Everything I eat is fried
Gotta southern draw
I'm so country y'all

Well that's way down south
Yeah it's way down low
Check my southern fried style
And my southern flow
Southern girl

Countrified
I like my tofu fried
Got about a hundred friends
That ain't caught on the trends

Don't know about the Internet
Don't know about the radio
Don't know about the television
All I know is about my flow

[Incomprehensible] me out
To make money for the house
Hooked up with my boy Rahzel
I sure hope the record sales
Southern girl

Southern girl, and I'll rock your world
Fly as a bumble bee, buzz
Can't nobody f*** with me
I'm a southern girl

From way down south
Got a dirty wave
'Cause I got a dirty mouth
Dirty south

Southern girl
Twain tiki lang tang tang tiki tiki
Southern girl
Twain twain twain ta tong
Sounding like a southern girl

Twain tiki tang, tang tatang ding ding
Southern girl
Ding ding a ding dong, D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A.D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A.D.Y
Lil' la-double L.A. yes
Yes I
Get 'em chicken out the oven

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610f4659c6b5c78facd0b505b4ebea9a

Cock It - Lyrics - Juve The Great - Juvenile

Title: Cock It
Album: Juve The Great
Artist: Juvenile
Composer(s): Terius Gray, Byron Thomas

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Uh huh, uh huh
Mic check, one, two
It's Juvenile comin' through
Uh uh, c'mon, c'mon

Who the man? If I ain't it, nigga can't claim it
I can take a small name and make it famous
I reason with no one homie, I got fa sho cliental
I'm a X L out here in the streets or lyin' in jail

I'm quick tempered, please limit ya words
I will send you in a hurry down south with the splurge
It's kind of hard to understand me 'cause I speak with a slur
But my guns speak a language all the people done heard

Streets sense gon' keep me in it for a minute
You fuckin' with a General, salute me Lieutenant
I'm not too particular with lies
I look 'em in their eyes, say a pray before you die

This ain't about me, this is 'bout somethin' that's spoke
You know runnin' with a nigga while you cuttin' his throat
Oh you loose lip bitches get hung from a rope, you know
Bagged up and throwed off the side of a boat, oh!

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that, out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

Keep on makin' ya laws, I'm a keep breakin' them
I can move a package in any city I'm stationed in
If ya son touchin' my shit, you better pray for him
Bust his head and catch me a flight to where the hatred's been

I ain't the only solider they got a lot of these
All of these children make me know who dropped a lot of seeds
I smoke till my eyes shut, stay strapped
So if you think about sneakin', you better wise up

Hit you with the traqualizer, let it fill ya head
Paralyze you, have ya screamin', "I can't feel my legs"
Regardless of what a nigga or a bitch done said
The shell around ya get puked like eggs

I'm from the M A G N O L I A
My bitches gonna listen to what the hell I say
You niggas gonna respect it or get out my way
Or the Coroner's gonna happen to ya all time sake

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

You old niggas on ya last limb
Move over, let some niggas who really want it come cash in
Suppose to get killed for cock blockin' in cells
Solider bet you can't get no chronic up in hell

Fresh off the porch where the stash spot
I'm hungry tryna get the same respect that my dad got
Got the chopper, cut the weight, nice in the trash box
Nigga be on paper, so himmed up from the bad cops

How the hoes be actin', hopin' for child support
I need to snatch me a coat and endorse it with dope
I ain't even gotta speak on it I put my G on it
Niggas gon' let us get that whenever we want it

Beef is beef whenever the shit occurs
If it's real, it's gon' resolve into metal for sure
But hit the right one, he ain't respectin' my bad
My only satisfaction will be poppin' your ass

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

Cock it, take berrata then pop it
Give me that out ya pocket 'cause the best can't stop it
East coast whassup? Down south whassup?
West coast whassup? Mid West whassup?

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13028be1c37647d2c0109c1b87739cef

South Of Heaven - Lyrics - The Last Rebel - Lynyrd Skynyrd

Title: South Of Heaven
Album: The Last Rebel
Artist: Lynyrd Skynyrd
Composer(s): Johnny Van Zant, Robert White Johnson, Michael Gerald Lunn, Gary Rossington

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
There?s a honky-tonk just south of Georgia
Little salvation just a-waitin? for ya
I heard it said a long time ago, if you're lookin? for your soul
Down a dirt road, just across the border

Well, the harder it comes, you know the easier it goes
If you can make your way a little further down that road, yeah
When you're caught up in between or just dyin? to be set free

South of heaven, always endin? up
No matter how I try, I?m just south of heaven
Don?t wanna think, you can have it all
?Cause all I need is just south of heaven

There?s a little girl, they call the sweet thing
Been some time, I?d like to tell you one thing
You have nothin? left to lose, so by the time that you come to
You?ll be one more callin? her name

Well, the harder it comes, you know the easier it goes
If you can make your way a little further down that road, yeah
When you're caught up in between or just dyin? to be set free

South of heaven, always endin? up
No matter how I try, I?m just south of heaven
Don?t wanna think, you can have it all
?Cause all I need is just south of heaven

There?s a honky-tonk just south of Georgia
Little salvation just a-waitin? for ya
I heard it said a long time ago, if you're lookin? for your soul
Down a dirt road, just across the border

Well, the harder it comes, you know the easier it goes
If you can make your way a little further down that road, yeah
When you're caught up in between or just dyin? to be set free

South of heaven, always endin? up
No matter how I try, I?m just south of heaven
Don?t wanna think, you can have it all
?Cause all I need is just south of heaven

And when I die, don?t cry for me
?Cause I?ll be just south of heaven
South of heaven, all I want, all I need
All I want is south of heaven

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8df92282497a463016a1b2b1d893d6b2

Where The Shit Goes Down - Lyrics - VI: Return Of The Real - Ice T

Title: Where The Shit Goes Down
Album: VI: Return Of The Real
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): M Ogelton, S Adam, Tracy Marrow

Lyric:
Ice-T, nigga, representin', strictly West side, nigga
South Central in the muthafuckin' hiddouse
Check the technique, nigga
Representin' for my real niggas out there
Fuck all you buster-ass niggas, word

Saturday night in L.A., time to play
My peoples hummin' like a vibrator, gotta make crime pay
I'm packin' two gats and I wish I could carry more
Might sound crazy, but I ran out of slugs before

Yeah, I know the feds watch me
But my vest clashes hard with the Versace
So I'm just rollin' in the black five hun'
I used to low ride, now it's just for fun

I had five cars, but now I got one
Hard to keep up ballin' when you're on the run
I got two kis in my trunk and a shovel
Stepped on the one, so now I gots double

The shovel's for drama, need I say more?
Got the fat stash spot under my passenger floor
That's for the other strap, the automatic type
I gotta keep it close, in case shit gets hype

Got a bitch in jail, she didn't snitch, she did three
I'ma have to roll solo till they set her free
'Cause I got some other crimeys down, true gees
But they got all day, so now it's just me

And I'ma kick this slang until the day I die
I can't go straight, I won't even try
I'm stuck in the game, so don't ask me why
It's life in L.A.

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Long Beach and Compton are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

Now niggas like they credit and they like to get they loans on
So I hooked up with my boy, who turns them phones on
He told me 'bout this nigga who won't pay
He also said he knew exactly where the muthafucka stay

So I went and got some homies I hang with
Some crazy muthafuckas who I used to bang with
We took a trip to his crib
I snatched his hoe and his kids and this is what we did

I tied they punk ass up
I cracked the safe with an axe and then the phones we cut
I didn't hurt his wife
But I promised next time, that I would take her life

I shot a nigga in his neck for disrespect, caught a body
Got a murder in Miami for a shoot-out at a party
Got blood in my trunk from a punk who squealed

Had a partner tried to play me and his cap, I peeled
Now I rest with my finger on my heater
Hand on my beeper, a light sleeper

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
New York and Philly are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Frisco and Oakland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I used to sling enough water, you could float a boat
You could ski on the mountains of fuckin' coke
But now, most niggas serve chronic
So I let 'em check the bank and then I'm all up on it

I serve 'em with a cute hoe
In a week, they tell my bitches 'bout all they dough
Then I jack and I kill
The jack's for the money, the kill's for thrills

I got nine thousand blacks that still serve crack
Got a bitch who works the Plaza too, on the track
Got a GTA connection and I fence for jewels
Got some little kids that move my fuckin' dope in schools

Got warrants for arrest in about twenty states
Got a bigger body count than fuckin' Norman Bates
I'm a killer, jacker, dealer, pimp supreme
I'm livin' out the hustler dream

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Houston and Atlanta are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

Tonight, I gotta meet this nigga from around the way
Some say he's cool, I think he's DEA
He said he want it bad, he heard that I got it good
I bagged up ten kis of flour and met him in the hood

I met him at my spot, 'cause I know it's cool
Pat him down on sight to remove his tool
I made him name ten niggas he should know
But that still ain't shit in the game of blow

He asked to see the dope, I asked to see the cash
He reached for that briefcase too fast
A fuckin' pig, yo, he thought he had the chump
I had my nigga in the closet with a bull pump

And now there's fuckin' shot-up body all on the floor
But that's what the shovel's for

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Newark and Miami are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Detroit and Chicago are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
D.C. and Cleveland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
I know all my niggas live in down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

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