paroles de chanson Throw Your Hands Up - OutKast , MJG

Bitch, I ain′t got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind
Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine
My player ways keep me with plenty dimes
See I′mma shine like all six of my gold teeth
When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z
All night on the block til the sun rise
My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5
Four five in the mornin it don't stop
Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)
Blue lights snap me back to reality
I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me
Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass
Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash
I guess that′s better than gettin locked up
Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!
Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
Down in the bottoms where they broke some
Whips cross a nigga back, way back
And now they wonder why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow
Afros & loud ass Italian clothes
People bar-be-quein in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!
I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit
So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite
Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee
Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees
Ham sam′ich in the driveway, drop top
Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch
Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone
So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on
I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth
Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip
Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times
If I diss her it′ll take a nigga ten lines
MJG standing tall and I, won't fold
You can have all the bitches, cause I, don′t hold
On to any woman like a human hand cuff
You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!
Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
Down in the bottoms where they broke some
Whips cross a nigga back, way back
And now they wonder why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow
Afros & loud ass Italian clothes
People bar-be-quein in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!
How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows
Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves
Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite
Been had a coke and a smile, now I′m trippin off Yak & Sprite
Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed
Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about
From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah
The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I′m after
No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious
The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major
They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her
The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker
Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you
But if ain′t that dirty then patna see we don't need you
You know I′m talkin bout
OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!
Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
Down in the bottoms where they broke some
Whips cross a nigga back, way back
And now they wonder why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow
Afros & loud ass Italian clothes
People bar-be-quein in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!
You wouldn′t understand, if you stood under it (ooh)
It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get
The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand
Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance
So now, throw your filangies in tha ground
I′m still abound, un-believers stay from hell around
I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down
Transmitting from Native American burial grounds
I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads
Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad
Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then
Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work
So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast
Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker
Word to the motherfucker!
Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
Down in the bottoms where they broke some
Whips cross a nigga back, way back
And now they wonder why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow
Afros & loud ass Italian clothes
People bar-be-quein in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up
If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up
If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up