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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
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Lyricist: Nappy Roots
Lyrics:
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off We just some country boys - country walk, country talk Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
Uhhh.. this nigga no games (no games) With my Hanes tee shirt with a pick and roll chain (chain, chain...) Durag, baby blue 'Lac 85 South - don't drive it too fast (too fast) My niggas don't roll no phillies Get a big box of them brown Dutches (brown Dutches) We don't want no brand new car Tell Brandon “lemme get them keys to the Cutlass” (Cutlass) Represent for the M-I-L, the A-T-L, the Naptown (Naptown) Stay smokin’ that smackdown Keep myself a lil half-pound (half-pound) You know B. Stille in the cut On the back po'ch Jig grillin’ it up (what, what) Black folks just livin’ it up Court next week not givin’ a fuck (uh, uh) What's up? Chrome spinnin’ Only rap to them grown women (grown women) Stay high, we'll play shy Least till I can get home wit’em (home wit’em) Shorty whattchu thinkin’ whattchu drinkin’? Thinkin’ it is what it ain't (what it ain’t) I can’t be trickin’ so don't be trippin’ Thinkin’ I can when I can’t come on
Nigga hooked it up, like the waitress from the IHOP Nothin but the grits, steak, and egg with that Waitin for the five dollar pancake, front-back side to side Impala, country boy, Cadillac, cat sick in the Monte Carlo All clean (twenty inches) at the seam (plenty chickens) Get the green (split the swishers) at the Beam (shit done seem) Craziest muh'fucker, what y'all niggas do for cream Never knock the hustle scheme, only what the cheddar bring Hate, fake-niggas, hoes, envy, greed, jealousy Cain't take what a nigga make type of enemy Smilin' in my face but they really ain't no friend to me Cain't wait, send em eight straight nine milli-mee Aww hell naw, y'all niggas ain't feelin me! Colt 45 e'rytime like Billy D Ninety-five (?) leave through Tennessee Quarter pound with the Crown fuckin wit my memory
Peanut butter (Rag-tops) - what's fuckin wit that?! (String beans) pork chops - what's fuckin wit that?! Dime sack (with the gnac') - what's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin with that?! What's fuckin wit that?! Every Chevy (on dubs) - what's fuckin wit that?! (Jodi-Bodi) strip clubs - what's fuckin wit that?! Nappy Roots (hey dawg) - what's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Come down to the country, you won't wanna go back Vertical grills in front of the 'Lac Blunts rolled so fat, put one in my back Plus a buncha country boys wit gats, you don't want none-a that Keep - my nine - right beside me, at all times Cuz I be in the line, like somma these niggas you find Don't want you to shine, right yea..
From the side and nine-to-nine Roll around here somethin tryna sell mine Lord know but I got a dime early time Got me feelin to', now my Eggo's cold See I'm a country boy (Huh?) Close the door (Huh?) Clinton and Gore (Huh?) Y'all been warned (Huh?) Guns and more - better hit the floor Them yeggaz want ya cuz they comin in with them laws
Fuck - yo life; buck - my chife And I got my ride, fool, I'm ready to ride For my yeggaz I'mma bring it to you dead or alive
Yeah that's fa sho' ya better know that You a nasty ho, ya better show that Got a quiet lil' spot we can go at And if you ain't wit that, we can show you where the do' at
*music to fade*
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