nelly
midwest swing
CHORUS: (Nelly) It's a Midwest thang y'all And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue) Why my Cutlass blue And I got them thangs On that motherfucker too It's a Midwest Swang y'all Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay) 'Cause we do big thangs On the motherfuckin' hip 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 do' seal Sh*t ain't been the same Since I signed Fo' Reel This sh*t got ill, when I hit 4 mil 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-caught the same night Straight hopped the next flight Too Icey for sunlight Dunkin' without Sprite Yeah 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 Repeat 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 chick Keep a quarter of some sh*t I'm the Pookey of the backyard All colors and all types like a junkyard High young boy with high 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 'cause 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 V12 horses Saddle up and put Spurs on my Airforce's Back porches made for Hide and go seek We got space out here We can ride and cheif 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 St Louis sportin' 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 sneakers See how fast a car go Granny be like "Ay, ya ya" 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 22's on new UP's With one, two, three Four, five TV's Repeat 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 stank bitches 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 (street) Errbody (everybody) Watchin', thinkin' I'mma pull the heat And leave the D-tects with A leak in the skreet (street) 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 poche (porch) hustlin'.