Chorus: Goodie Mob (repeat 2X)



I got to feed, the beat, the gat on the seat

Fakin ain't these girls fake when they see they face in the paint

Mustard and mayonnaise, and we smoke always

Passin by these haters like we got all A's



[Backbone]

Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street?

Nuttin but hard times, workin this concrete

I'm gettin dirty looks from niggaz, on the next street over

They was in my filthy, fiendin gettin closer

I'm in my seventy-nine, flyin

Mobbed out so they can't see me when I'm ridin

They slow me down, holla like we buddy buddy

But at the same time I know these muh'fuckers wanna mug me

Okay gunplay at the one-way one day witcha

But I'll do years, if I bust these niggaz

Keep point four-five calibers of chrome

I'm, comin forth to carry you home



Chorus



[Cee-Lo]

Yo, well you damn right, dig it they call me Sugar Delight

Uh-ohh hoe, Willie cuttin virgin broads tonight

Blowin like a boss, that champion chief in cost

And oh my dual exhaust, will make your shit get lost

There's somethin bout these guns that give these hoes asthma attacks

These are actual facts, I ain't been in no actual car-jacks

but let me tell you this, I'll burn a nigga ass up to a crisp

Ridin with these two glocks, we gon' bounce on off, on the new shocks

My nigga don't hate me, cause I ain't hated, but we related

No one includin me, should be understimated

But don't you dare ride through the SWATS without, at least 30 shots

Cause I'm tellin ya, these Southern boys gon' get all they got



Chorus



[Khujo]

Pop it in, get to work, brains blow, ??

off the block before your carcass drop

Can't share nothin with the niggeroles, stealin socks

Out your cornbread dream too, if you got those, leavin deaf hoes

brown, on the outside, pink, in the middle

Ain't, barrin none hundred round draw

Nothin under seventy-five, and I get slick ??

Takin no prisoners cuffed, they die fightin for they freedom

Everytime son, rhymes too pretty'll get your mascara smeared

When they did, my buddy Spanky I bust out in tears

The world would be a better place to live, if it was less queers

I still see, punk ass bitches.. bitches..



Chorus



[Gipp]

Get up off and give me room, activate, motivate

Y'all from the section where the straight shit, straight up off the top

Block for block, yo we got the ??, wait for days

Gone up off the Purple Haze, when you see me call me Mr. Gipp

Shoot em from the hip, everytime I'm in my 84 Sedan Deville

block me off and watch me peel, Big Boi grill ridin through the park

on the weekend ain't no stoppin keep it dippin that's how we trippin

Lookin mean, you too clean behind the glass

Watch yo' ass, keep yo' elbows out the windows

and my hands upon the wood wheel, money in my socks

Lookin out, for the cops, and for the haters got a fifty shot

whatever you wanna call it, nigga what?  What?



Chorus



[T-Mo]

Now watch em slide like some finger lickin chicken, bout to start clickin

Hoe better know who the true G's are, I'm the star, brand new car

Dope ki lyrical cascade height, SWATS type, mic soldier

Blowin composer, chief of that doja, told ya when I was older

I wanted to live the good life, money over that bull, got that pull

Stomach full, posse thick, niggaz wish, at a young age

Goodie Mo.B., doin they thang, I, pray, for, change

and my players in this game it's insane, how this 'caine

is bringin em pain, young'un doin time dyin by this grind

A-T-L, fine this just how it's goin down

And the sound, watch your mouth in this motherfuckin Dirty South

Nigga check it out, dirty SWATS got SPOTS



Chorus