Lyrics Gangsta S**t (Live) - OutKast

Some of that uh, ltd lincoln town car
Some of that el dorado funk, know what im talking about
Gangsta shit, you know, lay back, cool out, yeah
You know we keep it crunk around here, a-town style
Getting head on the highways yeah, but this what i wanna know
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Outkast, goodie mob and the dungeon click
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Do you really wanna know about some gangsta shit
Dirty south nigga we straight gangsta pimps
O-u-t-k-a-s-t, o-n-p, g-o-o-d-i-e, so fresh so clean
Back with stankona, dungeon family
Pearl cadillac on dics adn vogues, flip flops, t-shirts and dickies
Its the return of billy ocean, cuervo is my drink
Stank, stank means you got the funkiest, dopest heat on the street
Three g ski, slimm, big boi and ths is c b-o-n-e
If you need some back-up find jerome,
Ya girl gonna give you grief at home
Just tell these hoez wanna be on the same team that shes layin on
Dope boys in the trap like to stack the dough
When beef come areound cant let it go
When my funds turn legit im gonna let you know
Ridin rims real good down old national
Its trappable, two bed, jacuzzi bath, its natural
Puttin cheese in ya stash, un-taxable futhermuckers get mad
Steady watching myself, got eyes in my back
Dont take no slack, when you managing the trap
If you work out, gotta get it right back
I trap by day boy, rap by night,
C-bone in this bitch college park trump tight
Im pimp tight, give a fuck, niggaz know whats up
Its t-mo and outkast in the back of my truck
We gotta simple little problem that we got to solve
It like it aint about the money, we got to handle the job
No colors or rags, just guns and masks
We not scared to blast and dip off fast
With the dungeon click, just pulled a lick
Now what you really wanna know about the gangsta shit
Back on the scence, a sack of green sitting on crome and rubber bands
Paint looking like candyland, its sllimm the south paw triggerman
Flippin work and whippin weight, rock up, roll and get the papes
Chop them hoez and then you skate, ack to the block wit the deflate
Grams the os, slabes to whole ones da flake
A young nigga holdin big face foldin
Pimps are known for catching runaways
A good hustlers known to keep his gun away
First nigga run up and try to jack mine,
First nigga fuck up to get flat lined
Pack still stainless coupe and verts brainless
Yall dont wanna fuck wit me, the trunk be at bangin
Of the chain danling, yall know that im form c.p
Outkas wit a k, yeah them niggaz are hard
Harder than a nigga trying to impress god
Well pull yourre whole deck, fuck pulling your card
And still take my guitar and take a walk in the park
Any play the sweetest melody the street ever heard
Now bitches sucking on my nouns and im eating their verbs
Get full, and niggaz, niggaz,
Pop, pop, lock, lock to the, to the beat, beat
As if pitbulls went out of style, made a vow to myself
If its for the wealth ill stop, well put i like this
Its like me selling some dope because my girlfriend wants to shop
Wrong reason, whatever the season, hey winter, spring, summer or fall
I dont stall, slow drag wit your brain against the wall
Yeah, nigga naw, we learn to the side dont fall
All yall fuck boys, tuck toys inside your pants
Just to pull it out, point it at the ground and make a nigga wanna dance
Now what that be for, youre on that reefer and on that tupac
In front of them oooh wops, trying to show out, thats the hoe route
Talking loud talking bout thats gangsta shit