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| 1. |
| 4:02 | 
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Yeah, haha Nappy Roots
Awwnaw! [Hook] Awnaw! Hell naw! Man Y'all done up and done it Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy Y'all done up and done it Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy Y'all done up and done it Ah, y'all done up and done it Man y'all done up and done it [Fish Scales] My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hook You hear me flippin thru my pages out my favorite notebook The microphone was in the closet (What?) No headphones, we lost it Niggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin over the faucets No AC, Tez'll break a sweat just tryin to make beats E-Dubz was being a hustler, (Heeeyy man!) all play flirtin all his customers, and flat broke Nappy smokin blacks out on the back po'ch I'm thinkin I got everything a country boy could ask for [Big V] Now what we do to get here? (Say dat boy!!) Lay it down and bring it to ya raw (Say dat boy!!) Hey now we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for Hated for for the cussin, but the hatred it made us cuss more Held on, but it was hard - stepped up, took charge Ran thru what we scared up, but what was we afraid for? Look what we made of, heart that what made us Being here is alright, but MUST believe we won't fall! Them country boys on the rise! With them big fat wheels on the side! Peep them vertical grills on the ride! And aw-awww-awww-awwwww! [Repeat Hook over this part] Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! [Saan/Skinny DeVille] My yegga, we hogwild, bet that from that roota to that toota-file Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles Kentucky mud, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred-spokes Skullied on that front po'ch, plus you know they got 'dro Seventy-nine coupe DeVille vertical Caddy grill Interstate 65 headin down to Cashville Glass filled, to the tippy-top, back-seat Benz Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints A damn shame, gotta grind anythang and everythang Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane A long time, a gravel road, to cash and fame and sold my soul To Hell and back, and back and forth, with same jeans and nappy 'fro [R Prophit] I might, hop off the Harley, spoke mine like Bob Marley Not parties with charties, wallin like they swallowin Bacardi Them butter-skin, Prophit gotta like them Understand you 'bout to lose ya life fuckin with THEEEMM! Them country boys on the rise! With them big fat wheels on the side! Peep the vertical grills on the ride! And aw-awww-awww-awwwww! [Repeat Hook over this part] Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! [Repeat] Them country boys on the ride! With them big fat wheels on the side! Peep the vertical grills on the ride! And aw-awww-awww-awwwww! Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! |
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