Teksty piosenek: | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Tytuł: Midwest swing

  • Wykonawca: Nelly
  • Wy¶wietleń: 186

  
   [Chorus]
  It's a Midwest thang, y'all - and they ain't got a clue
  (They ain't got a clue) why my Cutlass blue
  and I got them thangs on that muh'fucker too
  It's a Midwest swang, y'all - and they ain't gotta trip
  (They ain't gotta trip) while we swing and dip
  Cause we do big thangs on the muh'fuckin hip
  It's a Midwest thang
  
  [Nelly]
  Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
  What you think we live on a farm? Nigga be for real
  We got Benz's Rovers' and Jag's, Hummer's and Deville's
  Got a green S Class, ain't broke the door seal
  Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel
  This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mill
  Five and countin', dirty six at will
  Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide
  I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at 9
  I hear 'em cryin, "You gon' sell out" ya damn right
  I done sold out before and re-comped the same night
  Straight hopped the next flight, too *Icey* for sunlight
  Dunkin without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty
  I'm from the Show-Me State, show me seven I'll show you eight
  Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans
  Representin St. Louis everytime I breathe
  In the city I touch down and I bob and weave, ay
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Murphy Lee]
  I sport my beeper on my boots, that's why I be a buzz when I kick
  Maybe it's on my lips, it's chaos when I spit
  Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic
  Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo' shit
  Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit, I'm the Pooky of the backyard
  All colors and all types like a junkyard
  Hot young boy with hot young ways
  Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days
  You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here)
  Probably couldn't tell cuz I ain't walkin nowhurr (nowhere)
  I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)
  TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)
  I don't curr (care), hell naw I ain't cuttin my hurr (hair)
  To the half in them Airforce 1's, give me two purr (pair) ugh
  I'm from the Lou' and what I do is a Lou' thang
  One rapper, two rings and three chains
  
  [Kyjuan]
  Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V-12 horses
  Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce's
  Back porches made for hide and go seek
  We got space out hurr, we can ride and chief
  Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us
  By the time they catchin' up, we smoked it up
  And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark
  The Lou is more than the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch
  My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle
  Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin' car do's (doors)
  We racin down Skinker, see how fast our car go
  Granny be like "Ay-yi-yi" like Ricky Ricardo
  I know you wanna know why we do what we do
  You cats ain't got a clue why the Cutlass blue
  Brand new twenty-two's on new UP's
  With one, two, three, four, five TV's
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Big Lee A.K.A. Ali]
  I'm sittin' on the front porch, writin a hood rhyme
  Waitin on my connect to deliver that good line
  Wish I would find, one seed in my weed
  Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed
  Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen
  Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken
  Hidin in the back with the po' po'
  kicked in my do'do', man they some ho' hooo's
  They put the gun to my earr, you know the Lord don't fear
  Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clearr
  They had me face down in the skreet
  Errbody watchin, thinkin I'ma pull the heat
  And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet
  And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps
  Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD
  Beat the K, fuck coke, now I'm back on my granny porch hustlin
  
  [Chorus] - repeat to fade