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Nappy Roots




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  N  →  Nappy Roots  →  Albums  →  Watermelon, Chicken & Gritz

Nappy Roots Album


Watermelon, Chicken & Gritz (02/26/2002)
02/26/2002
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Awnaw (feat. Jazze Pha)
7.
8.
Slums (feat. CJ "Vodou" Henry)
9.
Po' Folks (feat. Anthony Hamilton)
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
My Ride (feat. Ayesha Kirk)
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
Ho Down (feat. The Barklays)
20.
Headz-Up (refried) (feat. Tiffany Villarreal)
. . .


-clip from 'Ballin' On a Budget-

R Prophit-
"Right here, I'm R. Prophit, a.k.a., the Galloping Ghost."

Big V-
"Big V. Sex, money, and bud."

B. Still-
"Yeah, B. Still, a.k.a., the Black Stillion. Yeuh."

Skinny Deville-
"Whasup, Saan, a.k.a., Skinny Deville."

Scales-
"What's up, Fish Scales, a.k.a., Big Bud, Sloppy Drunk, you know that."

-laughing-

Ron Clutch-
"And last but not least, Ron Clutch.

. . .


Got a cheese sandwich on the hunnid spoke
Pork rinds and a soda pop
I told a cop I'd beat it, lost
At 3 a.m., they told up "stop"
We got it real real, to the top
A G like 30 feet away from the county line
The weed flyin, the golden smilin
Wip it nice an then they sign
Man, fuck
How denyin' my damn luck,
This ain't no find if we get stuck I'm doin time
Don't get messy with the Prezzy
A quarter pound ain't worth the rizzy
Drunk as hell, then hurl the fifth
Back an forth we swerve and dip
Pumpkin pie
Bust a cop
I'll be damned, they took my crop
Shook 'em wit that lead foot an hit about a hunid fi (105)
Miles per hour
In the country wit the pudin, good an chunky
40 acre, mule an donkey, hell with that, just get the money
Got to be that early bird
To grind an get what I deserve
Quick to burn an an can't mesquite it
Lord I need it fore the third
Serve anybody? Hell naw, got to be for sure
Standin on the standard curb
Days begin to bend an blurred

Homegrown bacon
Yeah, I'm havin the wage
Tendency of a 50 hit, when its about gettin payed
Came along with a ragin theif hidin under the shade
An momma won't quit buggin me about my heathenish ways
Now I've wasted more tears then my mouth cold beer
Gotta be a Man on these rolls, overcomin my fears
Body too quick to gaze, with they head on bob
Get dee, life is foul but the dirt is hard, yeah! (hustla)

Chorus:
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla)
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla)
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla)
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla)

Aint no tenth, 35%
Dent in my hub caps, sticks in my dove sacks, fifth till I cuts that

Look, my baby husband got to eat some mo
Dough is what Im reachin fo
Money low, need some mo
Hustlin these streets alone

Now everyday I work, 75
A&R tellin me lies
Fore I die, wanna drive big bodies wit bubbla die
Now peep the otha side, ova them hills
Rich dude that own them mills
Tha candy sto is open for sale
These junkies gone smoke it to death
Money, hos, clothes, auto-mobiles, gold grills
no scrill, no deal, fifth weel, big grill
wood grain sturnweel, weigh it up, be still
lay it on the fish scales
I'm assed out in the back seat of the Pont-i-ac
Got a cup full of Con-i-ac
Quarter out of hunny sacks
Tell me get my money back
Still broke, feel like I ain't got shit to live fo
So much to kill fo
C'mon, this niggas transition, ain't no use in sittin round wishin
But my hands ichin, poppa need a new transmition
Get my grind on, hustle that bustle to make my grip in any time zone
Bundle that bubble, lets make it split
We buy: peices, ounces, keys, weed, Xs, Zs
nigga, please, anything you ask fo, we got what you need
To these college degrees we applyin to streets, cause I'm a (hustla)

Chorus:
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla)
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla)
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla)
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla)

[spoken]
Hustla. Carry many meanings..
Whether you a crook in them books
whether you usin your mind or usin a 9
bootleg alcohol, or runnin the ball
you must get it in. You was born a hustla
an you a die a hustla. Prophit, hit 'em wit it
[/spoken]

I pause and refine a mighty floss, et cetera
For life in a ballance, of it
Lyin an shinin a beddy ro
I gotta be worse than a hust fa mine (I mean)
If I don't crush it then Imma bust the 9
I tell ya dog, get on the blocks in over-alls, its over y'all
Wit all dem boys stay hot, said if we blow out finna go a billion time
Ya know me dog, neva be a oldie dog
My state of mind's on the grind like a eighths of raw
Dont go trickin 'em all, Imma have you bust for all my yiggas
Live for the days so we can hustle 'em all, aww!
What? What? What? Aw! Aww!

. . .



[Skinny DeVille]
Smoked the bong to the bang and got crunk
Shorty with the thong and the chain's about to get nutty
From my song my hands, I ain't tryna be ya buddy
Let a player cut somethin *scratching*
Now it's on anything that got drunk
Skully took it strong to the brain, and I'm
talkin dirty to this broad, "where yo' mayne?"
Think about it, till early in the mo'nin, bout 7:30
Get it on with the Philly, light the blunt and hell it's on
If ya tryna hit me, then hit me on my cella-phone
Really homes, take a hunnie with the silicone
Tighter than an S-Type sittin right on plenty chrome
Strong in the game, but not to play with anyone
Yeaga like to dance, but not just to any song
Gotta be the one, that rep well clear from
"No perm, no fade, no brush, no comb"

[Hook: Skinny] - 2X
Roll somethin, drank somethin, cut somethin, what (set it out)
Roll somethin, drank somethin, cut somethin, what (set it out)
Roll somethin, drank somethin, cut somethin, what (set it out)
Roll, drank, cut, what (set it out)

[Skinny DeVille]
Made the next call for the drink, the drink; straight to the head
Stuck on the wall, thumbtack, but what I shoulda did
Focus on the sack and sip just a little bit
Blame it on the Jack D, get back to the chick
Look I'm a mack, I think ya ass fulla shit
It ain't the way ya talkin broad, who ya think ya foolin wit?
Any nigga off the street, he game, school the chick
A hoe is a hoe fa sho', and any shoe'll fit
Call it what you want, blunt lit in the club crunk
Drunk than a muh'fucker, split tryna cut somethin
Quick now us want somethin, and the broad lookin thick
Whattchu think he slicker than the liquor tryna move his dick?

[Scales]
Now hold up; what? Stop; huh?
Somebody roll the weed up, feet up
V.I.P. lookin all G'd up, hair stay P'd up
Can't talk long gotta cut somethin, see ya

[Hook: Skinny] - 2X

Roll somethin, drink somethin, cut somethin, hold up, what?!
Roll somethin, drink somethin, cut somethin, hold up, what?!
Roll somethin, drink somethin, cut somethin, hold up, what?!
Roll somethin, drink somethin, cut somethin, hold up, what?!

[Hook: Skinny] - 2X

[B. Stille]
Nappy Roots, get it up at a sold out show
Cut her to, give it up when ya tho' that dough
Don't be playin no games, what I told that hoe
Forget her name, but she gone lemme cut that's all I know
Now I'm horny as a - pitbull
Some alcohol 'case I mess around and cut somethin
Get fooled, at the bar smoke somethin
It's cool, hit the telly, two hens in the whirlpool

[R. Prophit]
Steady sippin on courvoisier
Ghetto type at the bar spittin the gossip-eh
That's all - lookin like Beyonce
Bout to cut, stuff brown in my cup (yeaga what?)
Hurry up dawg, tryna holla at these broads
Tell 'em I'm a playa, watch 'em cream in her drawers
Say I'm Randy Moss then her panties came off
Quicker than a wide receiver runnin out on a cross
Shake it off now!

[Hook: Skinny] - 2X


. . .



[Hook: All]
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off

[B. Stille]
Uhhh.. this nigga no games (games)
With my Hanes tee shirt, with a pic and roll chain (chain...)
Doo-rag, heavy blue 'Lac - 85 South, don't drive it too fast (too fast)
My niggaz don't roll no billies,
get a big box of them brown Dutches (brown Dutches)
We don't want no brand new Cartel
Brandon lemme get them keys to the Cutlass (Cutlass)
Represent for the M-I-L, the A-T-L, the Macktown (Macktown)
Stay smokin that smackdown, keep myself a little half pound (half pound)
You know B. Stille in the cut, on the back po'ch Jig drillin it up
Black folks just livin it up, court next week not givin a fuck!
What's up? Grown standin - only rap to them grown women (grown women)
Stay high, we'll play shy, least till I can get home wittem
Shorty whattchu thinkin? Whattchu drinkin? - thinkin it is what it ain't
I cain't be trickin, so don't be trippin, thinkin I can't when I cain't
Come on..

[Hook: All]

[Skinny DeVille]
Nigga hooked it up, like the waitress from the IHOP
Nothin but the grits, steak, and egg with that
waitin for the five dollar pancake, front-back side to side
Them polly country boy, Cadillac, cat sick in the multi-color
All clean (twenty inches) at the seam (plenty chickens)
Get the green (spit the swishers) at the Beam (shit done seem)
Craziest muh'fucker, what y'all niggaz do for cream
Never knock the hustle scheme, only what the cheddar bring
Hate, fake-niggaz, hoes, envy, greed, jealousy
Cain't hate, what a nigga make, type of enemies
Smilin in my face but they really ain't no friend to me
Cain't wait, send em eight straight nine milli-mee
Aww hell naw, y'all niggaz ain't feelin me!
Colt 45 e'rytime like Billy D
Ninety-five (?) leave through Tennessee
Quarter pound with the chron' fuckin wit my memory

[Hook: All]

[Hook 2: Fish Scales + (R. Prophit)]
Peanut butter (Rag-tops) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(String beans) pork chops - what's fuckin wit that?!
Dime sack (with the gnac') - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin with that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Every Chevy (on dubs) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(Jodi-Bodi) strip clubs - what's fuckin wit that?!
Nappy Roots (hey dawg) - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?!

[Fish Scales]
Go down to the country, you won't wanna go back
Vertical grills in front of the 'Lac
Guns roll so fast put one in my back
Plus a buncha country boys wit gats, you don't want none-a that
Keep - my nine - right beside me, at all times
Cuz I be in the line, like somma these niggaz you find
Don't want you to shine, right yea..

[R. Prophit]
From the side and nine-to-nine
Roll around here somethin tryna sell mine
Lord know but I got a dime early time
Got me feelin to', now my Eggo's cold
See I'm a country boy (Huh?) Close the door (Huh?)
Clinton and Gore (Huh?) Y'all been warned (Huh?)
Guns and more - better hit the floor
Them yeggaz want ya cuz they comin in with them laws

[Fish Scales]
Fuck - yo life; buck - my chife
and I got my ride, fool, I'm ready to ride
For my yeggaz I'ma bring it to you dead or alive

[R. Prophit]
Yeah that's fa sho' ya betta know that
You a nasty hoe, ya betta show that
Got a quiet lil' spot we can go at
And if you ain't wit that, we can show you where the do' at

[Hook: All]

[Hook 2]


. . .



[Ron Clutch]
I'm just a, big bang baller on a budget
Dank weed, smokin like "fuck it"
City slicker, country nigga, reppin straight from Kentucky
Horseshoes and rabbit paws flossin, chicken closs for the lucky
40 flowers, Range Rovers, so they know the tailpipe's rusted

[Big V]
Country cookin, dog fightin, big-body ridin
Chillin like a mug in Western Kentuck', showin love
Summertime a funner time, smoke and gunner time
Sippin Sprite and somethin dark, every fuckin time

[Scales]
Uhh, okay watch how the po' folk ball
Stomp through to mall in my overalls, the black Girbaud
No pager, no cellphone, no access at all
Just a pack of Dutch Masters and a pint of alcohol

[Skinny DeVille]
My hooptie, with a down crew like Boots said
You don't +Perm+, +Fuck a+ fade
let my hair swang back and forth like a germ
Ill nigga with sick shit, pull out this and stick it in this thick chick
Baby mama drama, child support court and ain't worth the biscuit

[Chorus: Skinny]
Whattcha know about them backwood country folk?
Whattcha know about the 'Lac bone hundred spoke?
Jimmy Crack Corn; no fade, no comb
Whattcha know about ballin on a budget bro?
I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)
I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)
I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)
It's the N the A the P-P-Y

[B. Stille]
Pull up, dead horns on the hood of my truck
Kentucky Mud on my shoes and my socks
Hungry Jack, pheffer tryna stuff some food in my gut
Country cat in the cowboy hat
I'm front to back put the house on that

[Ron Clutch]
Candied yams, chitlins, greens, and smoked country ham
Chicken wings, cornbread, gran in the kitchen throwin down
Eat good, tryna smoke somethin, run up on a pound
Roll somethin, gut a vega tryna stuff it with a ounce

[Big V]
Hummin, mama cookin that mean it's Sunday mo'nin
Half a pint of bootleg gin, it keep my goin
Fat knot, (?) , bad daylight
Cigars and happy bags, man we stay right

[Scales]
Aww man, we go back, like sweet pickle book clubs
Nigga that was good love, summertime bathin in a foot tub
Damn that shit hurt, and my jams in that shirt
Atari 26, one stick, never worked

[Chorus: Skinny]

[B. Stille]
Comin up in the woods, all I did was run barefoot
Ne'er could comb my hair good
My hairline grew like ten pound vines
'Tween my rib and my underware
It's still a thin brown line, shit

[Big V]
Chores did, and ma work out on the clothin line
Cool as shit, country boys out on the grind
River views, picnic, big ticks covered the place
Folks visit, and make it apparent to come back again

[Scales]
Look here, see I smoke like a fire and a drink like a fish
That's it, ecstasy just ain't on my list
No comb, no brush, no fade, no pick
No shit, no hair and you get no dick

[B. Stille]
Now we love them gals that love themselves, them southern belles
Them Clydesdale Kentucky gals, with muddy tails
We cut them gals, no veils, no wedding bells
Trick on cheap hotels, KY gels and nothin else


. . .



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!)
always flirtin with 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 through what we scared of, but what was we afraid for?
Look at what we made of, hard times done made us
Being here is alright, but MUST believe we want more!

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, smoke pot like Bob Marley
Block parties with shawties, wallin like they swallowin Bacardi
Them butter-skin, Prophit gutter like kin
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 rise!
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

. . .



Use your head silly...

[Chorus]
Where yo' head at?
Shawty, where yo' head at?
Show me where yo' head at
Shawty, where yo' head at? (that's all I know)

[B. Stille]
Y'all ain't never heard of B. Stille, the look that seals
Screwed up coupe DeVille, peep the vertical grill
Well Killa Cowboy pull the dirty cowbell
Hell anyway ya do the certified playa
The thickest, the thicker, the better, the pick of the litter
The sicker the chicken, the bigger the dick I deliver
The kidney, the liver, the shiver, the give in her BACK
Make the bigger the nigger deliver the miggity-MACK!

[R. Prophit]
Y'all so ridiculous, hoes all up in my businesses
Got 'em stuffin up my tennant biz
My friend is here, so come around actin shady
I warned ya (Dick Tracy) like Warren Batey
Prophit hit it, 2-3-4-5
Kicked it off, 6-7-8-9, from behind
10-11-12, I'm... a glad man slingin geni-til y'all

[Hook: Big V + (Prophit)] - 2X
Want that, get that - (here we come now)
Jump back, get back - (keep it goin now)
Which one? this one - (think about it now)
"She gon' lemme cut that's all I know"

[Chorus] - 2X

[Ron Clutch]
I'm bout to leave ya juice joint
Drunk as a mug, drunk out his mind
Too damn drunk to drive, jump out the ride
Lookin for a chicken to pluck, with plumped up thighs
Gotta be thicker than Granny's gravy on the side
So when I get it, I can cut her, big ol' chunky slice
And if I love it, I'ma lick it like it's pumpkin pie
Now you guys don't really wanna it, this is countryfied
Now tell me whattcha really know about the country side

[Skinny DeVille]
I been in the wild slums po'
Now won'chu tell me whattcha'll know about them country folk
With all the chicken wing and fish and the dirty spokes
My yeaga smoke, betta sell and twank, and blowin smoke
(That fool cool ain't a thang) Look how that Caddy roll
On them twenty-two like Muddy (?) the fuck and blow
We forever reppin 'Tucky and e'rythang below
Skinny D, slum, Nappy's how the stories roll,
we got that bump fo' sho' (yea)

[Hook] - 2X

[Chorus] - 2X

[Big V]
Got the keys and we leavin, didn't even see the laws
So do we believe in?

[Scales]
Man these girls is bout freakin
Suckin and fuckin and tusslin, for the evenin, please believe 'em

[Big V]
Who's that girl? Oh that girl
Somethin outta magazine, curvy queen
Cross between, Britney, Whitley, Whitney (crispy) Mya, Pink
Kim and Lil'...

[Scales]
Oh where yo' head at, askin me where my bread at
Tell ya man, man I said that
Stop the askin me, and naggin me, and harrassin me
for it be a tragedy

[Big V]
Don't you know the damn thang
They come to do the damn thang
For they leave best believe they do the damn thang

[Scales]
Scales throws scragglers
Hooks 'em like hagglers
Don't talk much the game is spectacular

[Hook] - 2X

[Chorus] - 2X

(Told you to use your head silly {*distorted laughing*})
Where yo' head at? I ain't stutter
Getcha mind outta the gutter and pass the butter
That's all I know, come on
"She gon' let me cut, that's all I know..."

. . .



*sample is cut up*
"Please baby, please don't leave"

[R. Prophit]
We represent the slums.. alright..
Let's get this motherfucker crunkin from Kentucky to Baghdad
Ya pops was always gone but that didn't make him a bad dad
We still managed to eat, and come to think wattn't half bad
But Doug was always on us bout the things that we never had
Now I was born in Oakland better known as the Cold Town
Done seen too many folk down, some put the soul down
Done heard my momma cryin if I knew what I know now
I'd pro'ly have to greet the party room with the fo' pound
I'm tryna keep my head on straight to keep me from catchin
in case I feel my insides burnin, musta swallowed all twenty-eight
I'm drinkin Milk of Magnesia, but still I ain't feelin straight
Some mo' had murdered my granddad over real-estate

[Hook: R. Prophit w/ sample playing in background]
Represent the slums... represent the slums...
Represent the slums... aww, aww, aww, aww...
Represent the slums... represent the slums...
Represent the slums... aww, aww, aww, aww...

[Big V]
Bummy, if I put it out - sucky, if I pull it out
Ohh me, ya better kick it out, or ya livin in a haunted house
Ran what you tried to run, came how you tried to come
Did what you couldn't do, difference between me and you
Slum for a while now, country for a lifetime
Cool is what I choose to be, but that ain't what I used to be
Muddy waters couldn't drown a nigga, bloodhounds on the trail for real
Shakin up this rap shit, givin niggaz hell for real
Turn a hold the dog deal, mucus and you hearin right
National Geographic ain't, fuckin with this wildlife
Hissin; I'm finna strike, rattlin; I'm finna bite
Hell with a blue light, fuckin with no rules tonight!

[Hook] - 2X

[Scales]
Now once again, you see me layin down the law
These cowards tryna catch me like my hustle got a flaw
Bitch I'm Southern bred
That's where you break it down to raw and then you flush the rest
I said you break it down to raw and then you flush the rest
And I ain't playin witcha'll haters since y'all fucked up my order
Got me playin with a gram, coulda been up to a quarter
Now my cousin, called me up and said he finally did it
Graduated from a handheld, to primary digits
Cuz in the slums we don't work we just grind and gamble
Guarunteed I got that shit, niggaz dyin to sample
Now whattchu know about that work from the states of Georgia
Cook so thick, collard, grits and water (we in the slums!)


. . .


Awwww....
Mmmmm, awww..

[Chorus]
All my life been po'
But it really don't matter no mo'
And they wonder why we act this way
Nappy Boys gon' be okay
All my life been po'
But it really don't matter no mo'
And they wonder why we act this way
Nappy Roots gon' be okay, okay

[Big V]
We came in the game, plain ya see
Average man when the rest was ashamed to be
Nappy head and all, ain't no changin me
Ooooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh...
So rough it was, downright wrong I tell ya
Nobody never gave us nothin but tough time and made us somethin
Different stretch of road, new somethin to see
Every state on the map, a different somethin to eat
Daps and handshakes, it meant nuttin for real
Everybody makin a killin man, showin no feelins
Walkin off collectin pay, it's the way of the world
Can't change it, so I guess I'm gon' pray for the world
Sometimes I ask myself, was I made for the world?
I scream this to you, and I say it to the world
Nappy then, Nappy now - Nappy for a bit
Knee-deep, head over heels in this country shit!

[Chorus]

[Skinny DeVille]
Even though I picture better days,
I'm thankful for the chance I got to say amen
The Lord done blessed me with his grace, I wish this day would never end
We represent the slums, where we from, we feel they bump
Polish shot off on these presidents, and hardtimes they go and come
Some take up off, without the chance, to make it at all
Who woulda thought Skinny'd be the one that's, makin this call
Lord, help me out, tell me where I went wrong
I'm tryna find a righteous path, although it's, never been long
I gotta do it for my sons, they tellin me, "Daddy be strong"
We gon' make it through these hardtimes
even though they go and they come
Ya absolutely right, for somethin happen to me on last Tuesday night
It's plain as day, man they... with this World Trade
Naw brave any order but confoldure
Better make it home when nothin seems to matter
That's when, see, everything can go - any which way
They got me fooled, see the Henny with the J
Front po'ch, chillin broke, country folk, I'm Nappy with my ways yo

[Chorus]

[R. Prophit]
It's a blessin we woke up this mornin
All my colored folk stressin, come let's join hands
Got the folk with depresses of being po' man
Poppa taught me an order, survive for no man
Nappy got some (?) for we gon' stand
Prophit grew from a juvenile to a grown man
Ya gotta take responsibility for ya own man
Zonin, two blunts a mo'nin, by sunrise sometimes
I love to hear my woman moanin, it's on again
Damn I hope you play this song again
The soul cleansin, the melody just read my end
Not a lot of things but usually just appendin my lady
Been searchin bendin and saw my folks locked in the tennants
And it don't make any sense (why) children and sentencin
Broadcastin from the slums, that's why I'm writin these sentences
Just lower my income, (what) though we ain't finish it

[Chorus]

. . .



[Skinny DeVille]
Fell in the dump, it's about a quarter past twelve (twelve)
Skinny with the rest of Nappy comin as well (well)
Any nigga and his bitch, can come for this (?)
Gonna lose it shortly after it, soon as ya put it past her
We "50 Playaz Deep" in this bitch, like Drunken Master
How long you think them fine days was really gonna last for?
We slow and slum, you young and dumb, and clueless to disaster
We creepin on ya faster than a buzzard on ya bastards
Step - introduce myself, Skinny the country rapper
Like hundred spoke, we tighter with that game than Sunday Pastor
And the second step; I leave her mesmorized and then I blast her
Mind up out the solar system with this country pimpin
Plus the third dimension, need to stop look and listen
We twenty-inchin to the telly plus we on a mission
Skinny bigger fishin, to the well and Moby Dickin
Step fo', lemme show ya how we get to dippin
Count 'em

[Chorus: R. Prophit]
Slide on up and tap her shoulder (what?)
Get in her mind and try to mold her (huh?)
Back on up, let me show ya (how?)
Now start it over
Slide on up and tap her shoulder (what?)
Get in her mind and try to mold her (huh?)
Back on up, now let me show ya (aww awright)
I'm ready fo' her

[R. Prophit]
I'ma spit it real life for ya, not cuttin no bakin soda
Bet a thousand playa, now watch me make my quota
This is for the pimps and playaz that practice yoga
All it takes is a couple of shots and off with yo' gut
Rollin in the new cotton-toed now scoot over
Banana seeds is nice, baby please come closer
Really (?) in chemistry
Just a fan of MTV, now I guess the hoe en-vy me
Dropped my bow, saw her bobbin her head to the beat
Ol' lighty-skinned petite, ol' seductive freak
She's a bad motherfucker, had ya walkin the bee
Girl, where ya change at? Girl it cost to eat
I feel ya dawg, Prophit never loved these hoes
Never went to buy no clothes at the mall and chose to stay hard
Was tryna leave my knees when weak
Weavin through two (?), took it out and shot on her mink

[Chorus: R. Prophit]

[B. Stille]
Nappy gon' do it to ya like it ain't been done before
Hardcore, all fours, on the floor, up against the door

[Big V]
Give her the telly key and room number to where we be tonight
Aim to please tonight, tryna freak tonight

[BS] Aww man I'm so thirsty could drink a pint
[BV] Man I'm so hungry could eat a dyke, you hear me hollarin?
[BS] I heard ya right, dirty minds; they think alike
[BV] Us two guys in here, you know ya got to get live in here (True!)
[BV] I wanna put it deep in yo... (ooohh!)
[BS] Horizontal, diagonal, vertical, Viagra
[BS] Magnum, Sir Magnus, on the matress
[BV] Whylin in it, every which-a-way
[BV] With this dick get it, situated
[BV] Big V sophisticated with B., don't stop
[BS] Get it get it, here kitty kitty
[BS] Hump it like a dog, lick it like a frog
[BV] Question; is it wet enough (yeah!) lemme check it (yeah!)
[BS] She gettin spun like this Nappy Root record - disrespect it


. . .



Yes sir...
Nappy Roots...
Well.. I gotta go..
Aww.. alright..

[R. Prophit]
I find myself up in the sky again, fly-in
So sincere, my dear, when I leave I cry within
It's lonesome here, candy painted oh so clear
Represent the slums, Nappy through most of the year (Nappy Roots!)
Shouts out to Aaliyah, live the life and very career
On my wall I gotcha picture, God pray witcha
It's all on us, Nappy Boys 'In God We Trust'
Regardless what, this ya boy R. Prophit whassup?!

[Hook: Big V]
Nappy head and all, is the life for me
Grab my yea and we blowin trees
This is the life God chose for me, chose for me
Nappy head and all, is the life for me
Grab my yea and we blowin trees
This is the life God chose for me, chose for me, chose for me

[Ron Clutch]
I lent my apple comb to homes, gave my favorite brush away
Went from baldheaded to all-dreaded, to just enough to braid
It could be my lucky day, Nappy shirted up the shades
Think I'm frontin, I'm cuttin somethin.. with my trucks and blades

[B. Stille]
Let that man speak, step up - grab all my meat
Greet you with my balls and my word in every handshake
You damn straight, you worthless queer, price this landscape
Awake, to a plate - of a homemade pancake
Used to picture myself at the NFL Draft
I just couldn't remove the lens cap
but I still kept my mouthpiece and my chinstrap

[Ron Clutch]
I dread it all for a pimp hat
Big body hog, new rag-top, pitch black

[Big V talking]
Being average is ok, being different is alright
Long as you stay in your means
Then you know you keepin it real with yo'self
And that's Nappy right there...

[Hook]

[Scales]
I'm in the '81 'Lac Seville, but got spend
Limo tint, but see we ridin it like it's a Benz
Clamp somethin like a clam (Puff somethin like a pimp)
I'm cuttin corners most players won't attempt

[Skinny DeVille]
Skinny slum type, betcha bottom dollar that's fa sure
Nappy gonna be alright, through ups and downs and back and fer'
What the hell ya talkin bout? How much it cost to floss and ball
We did it on a budget, rep the country till we fall

[Scales]
Playa we in (Nappy!) enter this biz
My love is in the slums and the people that's near
They love me dawg, do anything for me dawg
Make a livin outta whattchu call ugly dawg!

[Skinny DeVille]
With nothin left to lose, we get it in,
but Nappy Roots done paid the dues
Hustlin, backwards-ass nigga this one here's for you
You in the way, get out the game
We comin through, with shit to prove
Ain't nan thing you can tell me 'fore observin what we bout to do

[Hook]


. . .



Sholiz...
Yean know dat?

[Skinny DeVille]
Yo, I snuck a dollar out my momma purse, headed for that juice joint
Twenty worth of Colt, 75 to the crossroads
'Lac bone, filled to the gills on a gravel road
How to roll, X and a O make a heavy load
Nappy on the track make ya back hit the dance flo'
Drivin like a grandma, actin like an asshole
(Skinny who?) Sholiz folk, whattcha ask fo'?
Ballin on a budget, fuck ya dubs on the astro

[Scales]
Uhh, no more Grand Martin get a fifth of Goose
and a duck with goose, don't need shit with juice
Look at me dawg, you can tell I'm southern bred
Wear alotta blue but I love the red

[B. Stille]
Somethin all black, think mad cuz I act like I'm all that
Tight braid red bean under my straw hat
Tripped over ya jaw, ya ain't think I saw that, huh?

[Chorus: Skinny] - 2X
Whassup, my folks sholiz
Peoples in slums just slump, sholiz
Nappy with the country bump, sholiz
This is what the country want, yep it sholiz

[Scales]
Fish Scales scuba divin on a remote island
Me and Skinny D, Big V (?)
These guys suprise us, depicts us like bubble letters
Is that a hoochie, and some coochie cutters?
Hey bitch ya look good
Really wanna play in the trench but I should
If ya come sit on this dick I might would
Hold up hater, I don't want no disrespect
I don't want shit but next...

[B. Stille]
Oops came through spillin my pitcher
Scales in the back feelin the swisher
Thought you knocked me out the frame, but I'm still in the picture
Thought at first Nappy was lame, but I'm willin to bet ya
We'll sell more next year

[Skinny DeVille]
Good God Almighty, look at what we have here
Old English, malt 50, somethin clear
We gon' cut the shit talk -- Skinny with the steel
gonna drop it down, weigh it up and lay it on the scale

[Chorus]

(*cutting*) w/ "Sholiz" repeated

[B. Stille]
Come on, gut out the last of the greens
Hit the club so fresh and so clean
Bitches love the cess, I'm smok-ing
Remove they O-Ring, then soon elop-ing
Take my last swallow now we spinnin the bottle
I'ma get me a model - you'd have a better chance winnin the lotto
Twenty dollars, check 'em in the Ramada
Gotta leave the do' open so Skinny can follow

[Skinny DeVille]
Yep sholiz, takin no shit
Get the chance again, we dip then blow wig
Nappy with the sho' shot, yeaga know this
We run up in this bitch and get so rich

[Scales]
Aww now everybody ain't rich, they just wanna be flashy
Tryna big ball like Drama and Jazzy
Playa you don't understand this B.O.B.
That's the reason these drinks can't be on me

[Chorus] - 2X

[short conversation]

[Chorus] - 4X


. . .



[talking]
Aye man, I wonder what's gon' happen the minute my cash get dropped
You ever thought about that Skinny? Nope?
Shit what about you Scales mayne? I'm-I'm unsure mayne
I got alotta, lotta question that need to be answered
True we all got questions, but dawg I got questions
I got a lot on my mind, just just
just get me a blunt man, just fire it up man
Man...

[Big V]
Now fire up the weed, cuz one day I'm gon' pro'ly burn
The Ten Commandments in life, never my concern
Thing on my mind was, "get 'em, fore they get you"
Thing on my mind was, "stick 'em fore they stick you"
That's why niggaz know, I'm bout the game before peace
Cuz being free-hearted that's where it leave you deceased
Cold world, cold game - they gon' split ya thang
and bang shit out the car what, would drive the average man insane
Ghetto love, ghetto life, ghetto death; then ya gone
And after I'm deceased I'll know life gon' go on
And what about my sons - will they do what daddy didn't finish?
Will the light come to a close, shortly after my decision?
What about daddy girl? Will she do what I wanted?
Or will she break my heart and let these, niggaz up on it?

[Hook: Big V]
Life's a bitch!
I swear to God, you take your chances!
Too many questions, and not enough answers!
Life's a bitch! You take your chances!
Too many questions, and not enough answers!
Life's a bitch! You take your chances!
Too many questions, and not enough answers!
Life's a bitch! You take your chances!
Too many questions, and not enough answers!

[Ron Clutch]
I'm on the verge of losin my mind, this (?) is my last nerve
I done served my last dime, standin on this crack curb
It's absurd - I been on this block, from the first to the third
Rocked a 'Bird and seen two niggaz shot and left for dead in the dirt
I'm concerned if I die by the glock, will my soul soon burn?
My past clash with my future then, take a drastic turn
I'm submerged knee-deep in this here, but those around can soon return
Morality's hotter than burn, makin they hearts they burn
and say "Fuck the world!"
We all going to Hell for some, shit that we deserve
But first we was promised a hearse
and a chance on earth to visit church, for what it's worth
I'm tryna make ammends for all the sins that occured
The uncontrollable urge that emerged when I, snatched that lady's purse
and the, last week that I slurred, when I, cursed on every verse
Inevitable but well rehearsed, freezin my hunger as well as my thirst
This glock; ready to burst, on any fools I encounter first
with the, maximum amount of force, even if, worst comes to worst
Cuz life's a bitch!

[Hook: Big V]

[Scales]
My total first, nineteen seventy-six
Welcome to the world - I did 12 months for this shit?
Moms and pops couldn't get along - older brothers gettin grown
Now I got nothin but this dice I'm sittin on
At night I'm closin my eyes, and thinkin about my folks that died
Tryna sleep on 'em, thinkin I ain't supposed to cry
Uncle (?); he just died from too much alcohol
And all he wanted was a fifth and pack of Paul Mall
And moms was hard gettin back, grew up on (?)
I'm tryna cut down on drinkin but that's a lost cause
Guess we don't learn our lesson until we all fall
These racist cops got niggaz writin they own laws
Please God, don't let 'em take us
Just tell momma I meant well, in time don't let me wake up
Please God! Don't let them folks take us
Sincerely, I meant well, in time don't let me wake up


. . .



(SKINNY DEVILLE)
feelin easy like its sunday morning steak and eggs
hey livin off some big rims lookin like some blades
play her like a pimp type a nigga aint me
with the tint the 35 percent so ya cant see
fish scales shotgun pass the "L" to big V
flip flop candy lookin so wet it drip drop (shiiiine)
from the tip top chrome double duce
make a bitch stop jaw drop ballin off this hip hop
on a budget back and forth from kentucky
we them type of niggas that crack corn in a bucket
a hundred and ninety spoke god damn
look but dont touch it we commin down I-65
nappy and company (vertical grills) on the cadilac we so real
skinny deville return like a bat out of hell
hell dont ya think nappy roots comin as well
Big V, B. Stille, Prophet, Clutch, and Fish Scales yeaahh

CHORUS
My ride be sittin on dem hundred spokes (hundred spokes)
my candy paint straight from the honeycomb (honeycomb)
wood grain interior leather and chrome (leather and chrome)
everybody ride out its on its on (its on its on)

(FISH SCALES)
ay yo thats my cab jumped out leavin a tab
hold on man we'll discuss that later
B. jumped out like (fuck that hater)
fell in the aspen rotten like martin
two white dudes one looked like matt harprin
later on he's eatin and ball in cleavland
and I jumped out like fuck your season
van dam woke up in the grand am
real hot no air for the car jam
twenty inches ride both on probes
look nice chevrolet on pipes
keep chevy tint that twinkle so bright
B.O.B im'a ball on budget
pumped out two thou on the 89 cutlass (biiitch)
nah you cant ride im selfish
aint too many ho's wanna touch this velvet

CHORUS

(B. STILLE.)
hop in with me we bout to leave
you gotta pop it I drope a dollar in ya pocket
gas up the crotch rocket pass up the cops blocked it
(hey B. Stille can I role with you and Prophet)
extra clean you cant tell me nean
drop the top showin off for the summa
the cadilac stretch on dem bow legged stillets
where the candy paint sets like a wet cigarette
bubble coat primers chrome spiders inside us
big enough for my team and a couple of trainers
but it hold no minors thats major
wood grain and ya get deep beaters big features
feel boom from the beats in my big speakers
its on in my seats and my signature
dont throw dirt on my name no shirt as I lean
out the window pane you hear the country boy sang


. . .



[Ron Clutch]
No more wine for me, no more dimes of weed
Cuz I'm tryin to see, if my mind can reach
The level of the game that we die to see
I'm talkin bout naturally where ya mind is free
See I'm a dying breed, a country-fried emcee
I used to rhyme for free, but now I rhyme for cheese
See it was bound to be, when there's mouths to feed
and there's bills to pay, somethin gotta give way
The way I feel today, I could care less
Cuz my mind is made, yeah my hair's a mess
I don't bother to shave, I walk around bare chest
like a candy face, like I'm wearin a vest
I dare ya to test, I push a hundred-five reps
Showin off my pecs, triceps and biceps
I'm all for the cause, ready to die next
I'm all for the cause, ready to die next..

[Chorus]
We don't even talk about it we live it, we live it
(How you gon' tell me how to live my life?)
(Can't nobody tell me how to live my life)
And if you think you can take it from us, come get it, come get it
(How you gon' tell me how to live my life?)
(Can't nobody tell me how to live my life)

[Chorus Part 2] - 2X
(This life?) - it's mine
(It's yours?) - it's mine
(That's right) - it's mine
(That's yours) - this mine

[B. Stille]
Now ah, when I was a, young man
There was a couple of things poppa put in my head
Never; sit down when ya need to stand
Never; drink down all ya dreams and plans
Poppa, what's that inside ya glass?
"Don't do as I do boy, do as I ask"
See ah - do it right if ya gon' do it that fast
and - don't do it if ya gon' do it half-assed
Well, since then I been an over-achiever
Smoker and drinker, only I would opened my blinkers
And I'm broke, so I guess I gotta choke on my finger
Cuz I need to come up, ah I'm just a dreamer
A hustle schemer, these cops be corrupt like Rupp Arena
Try an bust my weiner, with these court subpeonas - petty misdemeanors
"Boy you ain't worth..." like student like teacher

[Chorus]
[Chorus Pt. 2] - 2X

[Skinny DeVille]
Same jeans in the spring that I strut in the fall
No comb, no fade, no nothin at all
I'll give a finger for the haters and one for the law
Sounds fine, Nappy Roots; a little somethin for y'all
Get a dutch, jump the gultch, then stuff it with straw
Get higher than a motherfucker, deep in the call
Hit the liquor sto', makin mo', fifth and I pause
Get love tryna cut, got ya dick and balls
Awww, hell naw then broads at the wall
Big pimpin on a budget, tryna make it the mall
Thank the Lord, for just livin, makin the most
'Scuse me, anybody got change I can borrow?
Dime? Caught a penny tryna get to the mall
Wanna buy me some ice too, slip it and fall
Oops silly me, big nuts and they gone
Didn't see that shit comin like a truck in the fall

[Chorus]
[Chorus Pt. 2] - 2X

[R. Prophit]
Lemme hear ya say...
Nappy Roots see ya dawg, all my yeagaz...
It's that life B, gotta make that choice...
It's all on you...
Lemme hear ya say...
Lemme hear ya say...

. . .



[Skinny DeVille]
I broke a dollar down the gutter (?) the dime, quarter, penny, nickel
Flipped the 25 to 50 cent, now watch the bitch triple
Game simple, ya here today, tomorrow ya ain't
Now who the hell gon' save it right
That ain't gon' change the way you think
I took a buck fifty, ballin on a budget, bought a Dutch
Quickly spilled it and I stuffed it with that chunky from Kentucky
Man that blunt did it, sour then McDonald's make the world pick
(If any nigga got it) Shit Skinny finna get it
(Get it) While it's gettin good and hold it for a minute
Let that shit bubble, weigh it up and chop it when it's finished
(We gon' drop it when it's finished) for some dollars and some pennies
Like a dime relentless, Nappy niggaz all about the Benji's
(Benji?) Not the dog naw, we're talkin bout the dead prez
Slaw, with the hog mall, chicken wing and fed bread
Dough like the cash flow, finna keep my fo-cus
Spinnin like a twenty picture Skinny in a cold pit
(Spinnin like a twenty picture Skinny in a cold pit?)
Boy yeain't know that money make the world go
Hustlin for pennies, nine-four for it real slow

[Chorus]
[Stille] Dime, quarter, nickel, penny
[Skinny] Damn, ain't it funny how we all about the Benji's?
[Stille] Dime, quarter, nickel, penny
[Scales] Won't you give me a dollar since ya got so many
[Stille] Dime, quarter, nickel, penny
[Skinny] Damn, ain't it funny how we all about the Benji's?
[Stille] Dime, quarter, nickel, penny
[Scales] Won't you give me a dollar since ya got so many

[B. Stille]
(Whatchu want man?)
(?) said a hundred for that
Super happiness, a blunt and a sack
Who could we feel like this, I don't need no crack
Weed smoke comin out the front of the 'Lac (chrome)
Gun in the lap and a gun in the back
Come to realize we was goin that fast
I blink my eyes, follow runnin my tags (get out the car)
Next time I travel somewhere dirty I'ma come in a cab

[Scales]
I can't knock all the rocks you rock
How I'ma cop all them yachts ya got?
You get props on the bop-she-bop
Let's keep it all the way Nappy, when you hot you HOT!
Burn up a dime, sell a nickel at the corner
Throw a penny in the jukebox, damn it's outta order
Spinnin air, fumes blowin, silver spoons (Rick Shroeder)
The dollar value gets shorter as you get older
Hey come here for a minute
Don't tell nobody I told you but uh...
The dollar value gets shorter as you get older

[Chorus]

[R. Prophit]
Aww, y'all boys done up and done it, spun it, flaunt it
Jump my motorbike doin about a hundred, one gun and I'm blunted
Everybody fend for they self - they tell me strong-arm
while it's only ten on the shelf (watch out! watch out!)
Like this, Galloping Ghost flow ferocious
Break down bones like osteoperosis (ohh!)
Prophet's in a coma, back stuffed with explosives
Postage to the White House, fuck all that bullshit
It's kinda funny, everybody love money to death
Not that, 3% control America's wealth
Need some help? Look at yourself, sure ya do
Y'all feel like "fuck the world?" me too
(?), can't get rich being complacent
Know ya gotta rebel when ya can't make a payment
Water like ice cubes for big faces
Face it, we're livin with racists, outrageous
Wild, host-ile, shake up stages, contagious
Young baby don't have patience, what my name is?
R. Prophit (yes sir?) sing the cadence

[Chorus]

Dime, quarter, nickel, penny...
Dime, quarter, nickel, penny...

. . .



[Chorus: Skinny]
Trunk funk and the Cadillac thump, really loud
Puff skunk in the back of the junk, get really live
Trunk funk and the Cadillac thump, really loud
Puff skunk in the back of the junk, get really live

[Skinny DeVille]
That's the Nappy Boys, travellin on the dirt road with Kentucky Mud
What's to love? A Cadillac somethin like a DeVille, it may be dubbed
Southbound, headed back to the west, and DeVille downtown
I'm takin it to the flat, hit up the Hollow back in J-Town
See my Cave folks got that grey pound, we hit the interstate
Straight be blowin like a freight train, ain't tryna catch a case
We take the back road off in Glasgow, we can travel it with no hassle
Shoot through Roscoe, back in A-Town like a king off in his castle

[Big V]
(?) homes be the cribs with the fun in it
Pound of weed, a couple of freaks, and a gun in it
City slick if you want, but us; we be slummin it
(?) if ya have it and put crumbs in it

[Chorus]

[Chorus 2] - 2X
Kentucky Mud! Damn right folk nuttin but love!
Big truck roll through yeaga nuttin but slums!
Kentucky Mud! Damn right folk nuttin but love!
And these blocks don't hold yeaga nuttin but uhh..!
Kentucky Mud!

[Big V]
Simple life back to its hardest again
Farmer in the dell, I'll be damned it's harvest again
Get it in, get it in, hey boy - cook it and eat it
Hit the bar for relaxation and a BAG of cheeba
Planes to catch, shows to do, reps to lose
LOTS of game, nothin to lose, payin the dues
Tryna get ours, winnin to lose
Brought in the game, then we was applied to the rules, whoo!

[Skinny DeVille]
Back to the field with hustlers, take anything and make work
We catch ya slippin, we just might get up and truck and take yours
These parts are packed with pimps and the players hate on the gangsters
Take only what you make first, bump to wake the neighbors

[Chorus]

[Chorus 2] - 2X

[Scales talking]
Kentucky Mud throw ya hands up
Put 'em together like this
C'mon, c'mon, Nappy Roots in this, whoo!
Kentucky Mud is the shhhhh...
Yeah, so throw ya hands up high! high!
Put 'em together like this
Nappy Roots in this, whoo!
Kentucky Mud is the shhhhh...

[B. Stille]
Nappy Roots, steak and 'tatas, eggs and bacon
The rooster crowed so I know it was time for me to awaken *rooster call*
Country livin, and the country cookin in a country kitchen
Good intention and strong religion, it's a strong tradition
Kicked to mud off my boots and dust off my pants and
Just came from the ranch but they swear we was (?)
B. Stille and them be chillin, spendin the time with our children
Finna mail off my stamps and we'll be grillin
Step offa this Kentucky Mud...

[Chorus]


. . .


Yeah you done, you know what im sayin'? we fixing to eat ya dig?
And mama's in there foolin with that sweet potato pie -
but I told her she need to hold off cause this boy want watermelon
chicken and grits, but they really missed out on them chicken
and dumplins and and all them turnip greens and them real sweet beans
we be eatin but I told em man my grandaddy had some mo stuff
he had some neckbone and some pinto beans and we was gona eat plenty
good and grandma louie she had some bacon and you know how i am about
bacon and it was gona drive me crazy and and I told Clutch the other
day that we need to stop actin a fool..

. . .


f/ The Barkays

It was a ho-down...
Another ho-down...
It was a ho-down...
Another ho-down...

[Skinny DeVille]
Walked into the club and farted
Damn! Look at shawty - off in the cut actin naughty
Eye contact, made sure that she saw me
Said y'all, don't get it twisted like I'm ballin
Down south stripper from New Orleans, thick as mud
Baby show me love, with a little tittie rub
Said, "hit me later on baby, maybe we can what?"
Said, "sound like a plan" wit my hand on her butt
But shit hit the fan sho' nuff, nigga hold up
Baby doll had a man, matta fact was a soldier
Ain't that a beyotch! He was sittin on the sofa
Smokin on some doja, tryna see some exposure
Had the whole spot sold up - legs tired
Bar done closed up, all of a sudden her man showed up
Automobiles, planes, and locomotives
Train with the (?) see both ran through (?)
Tag-teamed that beyotch, then I called my niggaz over
They smashed in the 'Lac, popped that twat like a soda
Vodka with the white stuff, you know when I act sober
And niggaz in the back, seen with the freak in the 'nova
It was a ho-down

[Chorus: The Barkays + (Skinny)]
I can't believe that she's real... (it was a ho-down)
The way she makes me feel... (another ho-down)
If you knew what I knew... (it was a ho-down)
You would be down in there too... (another ho-down)

[Scales]
Uh, now peep game of a star, stepped out the car
Walked through the door, checked the bitch at the bar
Eyeing her down, while I split my cigar
Can I offer you a drink or some dick in the park? (haha)
You know I'm just sayin that to get you mad
But you knowin damn well I wanna hit yo' ass
Yo I ain't the type of nigga that be jumpin the gun
But you lookin like a dime piece and I'm huntin for one
What's ya name? Nah, better yet, what's ya game?
Wanna ride in the Navigator, switchin four lanes?
Or chill up in the bathroom, sniffin cocaine?
Said she's the type of girl to get down with no shame
And everything I said before was no thang
We ran outside, and jumped in the ride
Next thing I know I'm gettin head while I drive
Eyes open wide, down 65 (it's a ho-down)

[Chorus] - 2X

[B. Stille]
(It was a ho-down) I knew it was all great
When the hoe caught me late in room 508
Oh she got live on tape, the price was low-rate
Plus she had a nice showcase, you thought she was ya soulmate?
Just because she got some shove in her can
Doesn't mean your 'sposed to go and fall in love with her man
Kissin and huggin and actin, in love with her man
Takin her out to restaurants and, rubbin her hands
If you knew what I knew, you wouldn't do what you do
But it's true that you, had no clue what she do
Cuz you trust her through, thick and thin
You missed it when, she was gettin live offa fifth of Gin
Get rammed in by me, while she lick my friends
When she finally came home you probably kissed her then (lame-o)
The more you tried to claim the hoe was an angel
The quicker I realized the freak was a stank-hoe (it was a ho-down)


. . .

Headz-Up (refried)

[No lyrics]

. . .


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