Tytuł: Drop dem' boes

• Wykonawca: Lil' Jon
• Wyświetleń: 185

  
   Once again up in that south from my motherfucking mouth
  and creeping up on y'all niggas like a motherfucking mouse
  Stepping on these tracks like fags and drag queens
  And shitting on you busters like I ate some bake beans
  
  Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hits
  We never straight jam with no busters our no tricks
  Getting in trouble from the sounds of my trunk
  and keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk
  
  Chorus: What, What (in background)
  Now drop dem boes'
  
  Nigga boes' bout to turn out the show
  Crankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoe
  Flipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking round
  It's time lay it down putting it all up on the line
  Ain't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoes
  All these niggas what they made us from dem' boes and craters
  While lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flop
  Underground where we dwell, the hell with hip hop
  Southside just reckless, from GA to Texas
  And next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexus
  But it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I see
  The mo' hating niggas try me
  Big baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade me
  Better sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me
  >From a place called T-town deep down in the south
  Where dem' players throw dem' boes and gold teeth in they mouth
  And dump dump if ya' jump jump
  The club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pump
  through yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like Beaker
  All the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter
  >From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to Alabama
  I be damn a club ain't crunk in this manner
  I can't stand a weak buster
  For all the freaks, hustla's, to the clothes
  Y'all gotta get it crunk and drop dem boes, drop dem boes
  
  Chorus
  
  I can't afford bigger, how ya' figga'
  that you gone stop me from stacking six figures
  Now you hating on me, because my game so tight
  And could you be mad because I fucked ya' wife
  Well it's true, that's the price nigga check that hoe
  I'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro'
  So stop talking all that shit, and trying to buck
  I'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' fucked up, now what's up
  
  Now ladies are you tired of trick bitches in yo' mix
  Acting like they want, to lick on yo' shit
  Critizing, everything that you do
  and telling ya' who, and who not to screw
  Nasty hoes, that ain't clean and shit
  They go around sucking on every dope boys dick
  Now is these hoes really yo' friend or yo' foes
  You tell me, while ya' drop dem' boes'
  
  Chorus
  
  Now if the club packed y'all from wall to wall
  And everybody trying to ball, coz sizing all
  Ain't nothing but love in the air, we geeing and macking
  Some haters off in there, but at least they ain't acting
  You got cha' cup filled up, ya' niggas is crunk
  Put cha' hands in the air represent where ya' from
  I'm from the GA baby, where freaks is shady
  Man it can be so crazy, so we burn trees daily
  When the beat a drop, everybody just lock ya' boes and shake dem' hoes
  And proceed to rock, from the front to the back
  with the blunts and gats, on the hunt for some cat or a fat ass sack
  Tear da' roof off the club, show you niggas some love
  and fill a swishe up with bud for my g's and thugs
  Now dem' haters keep watching, dem' freaks a jockin'
  the beats is rockin', so partner want you keep on dropping
  for my thugs
  
  Chorus
  
  Now right now I want all my hard niggas to follow me, follow me
  
  Bridge: what (until fade)
  That's how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk
  (repeat 7X)