Goodie Mob feat. Big Boi - Dirty South paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Dirty South - Goodie Mob , Big Boi



One to da two da three da four
Them dirty red dogs done hit the door
And they got everybody on they hands and knees
And they ain′t gon' leave until′ they find them ki's
Now if dirty Bill Clinton fronted me some weight
Told me to keep two, bring him back eight
And I only brought him five and stuck his ass for three
Do you think that Clampett will sick his goons on me?
See, martail homes, that's my claim to fame
That′s where I learned my slickest trick in the dope the game
Like my favorite, I call it lemon head delight
When you lick off all the yellow and you sell the white
Right, well if pimpin′ be a sport I be bein' the wide receiver
That nigga B.I.G. will make ya′ll niggas believers
Sippin' on cuervo gold off in the club drunk as fuck
Callin′ them hoes bitches and smoki'n my weed up
When I′m too sober, year older, now I'm almost legal
Wanted to live the life of Cadillacs, Impalas and Regals
Fuckin' around wit hoes, bustin nuts in they mouths
Kickin′ that same southern slang, lookin′ for love off in yo' jaw hoe
See powder gets you hyper, reefa makes you calm
Cigarettes give you cancer, woowoo′s make you dumb
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
See never did I thank when I got grown
That some peewee sacks had been done took this town
See life's a bitch then you figure out
Why you really got dropped in the dirty south
See in the third grade this is what you told
You was bought, you was sold
Now they sayin′ juice left some heads cracked
I betcha Jedd Clampett want his money back
See east point atlanta threw this road block
Talkin' about all this blow traffic got to stop
So the big time players off John Freeman way
Had to find themselves another back street to take
′Cause back in the day we was outta control
We didn't understand, naw nigga, that money ain't yours
That′s when me and big state took an oath and sweared
Never would we talk, never would we tell
So when they pulled up bumpin′ rock the bells
We took what we want and left them quiet as hell
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
Now that cobras got tha boys on Delowe on they back
Gipp holler at Miss Ann she said, they didn't get the trap
Behind the black, behind the green, behind the red tint
Dealers breakin′ off that blow up for those wood chips
A lot of faces ain't around, a lot of folks got shot
Scatta Mack droppin′ G's while that Cristal pop
Been on tha grind with cool breeze, droppin′ pounds with B
Eric Neat is tha coolest from my century
Mack town keeps growin old school like Charles
Stankin' like them Lincolns in piedmont park
Perry homes to herndon homes, to all the homes
Adams Ville to Pool Creek, shit just don't sleep in the dirty south
One to the two the three the four
Them dirty red dogs done hit the door
And they got everybody on they hands and knees
And they ain′t gon′ leave until' they find them ki′s
See powder gets you hyper, reefa makes you calm
Cigarettes give you cancer, woowoo's make you dumb
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
What you niggas know about the dirty south?
Yeah, yeah
The dirty south



Writer(s): Patrick L Brown, Raymon Ameer Murray, Rico Renard Wade, Antwan A Patton, Cameron F. Gipp, Frederick Bell


Goodie Mob feat. Big Boi - Soul Food
Album Soul Food
date de sortie
07-11-1995



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