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Chorus: Goodie Mob (repeat 2X)I got to feed, the beat, the gat on the seatFakin ain't these girls fake when they see they face in the paintMustard and mayonnaise, and we smoke alwaysPassin by these haters like we got all A's[Backbone]Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street?Nuttin but hard times, workin this concreteI'm gettin dirty looks from niggaz, on the next street overThey was in my filthy, fiendin gettin closerI'm in my seventy-nine, flyinMobbed out so they can't see me when I'm ridinThey slow me down, holla like we buddy buddyBut at the same time I know these muh'fuckers wanna mug meOkay gunplay at the one-way one day witchaBut I'll do years, if I bust these niggazKeep point four-five calibers of chromeI'm, comin forth to carry you homeChorus[Cee-Lo]Yo, well you damn right, dig it they call me Sugar DelightUh-ohh hoe, Willie cuttin virgin broads tonightBlowin like a boss, that champion chief in costAnd oh my dual exhaust, will make your shit get lostThere's somethin bout these guns that give these hoes asthma attacksThese are actual facts, I ain't been in no actual car-jacksbut let me tell you this, I'll burn a nigga ass up to a crispRidin with these two glocks, we gon' bounce on off, on the new shocksMy nigga don't hate me, cause I ain't hated, but we relatedNo one includin me, should be understimatedBut don't you dare ride through the SWATS without, at least 30 shotsCause I'm tellin ya, these Southern boys gon' get all they gotChorus[Khujo]Pop it in, get to work, brains blow, ??off the block before your carcass dropCan't share nothin with the niggeroles, stealin socksOut your cornbread dream too, if you got those, leavin deaf hoesbrown, on the outside, pink, in the middleAin't, barrin none hundred round drawNothin under seventy-five, and I get slick ??Takin no prisoners cuffed, they die fightin for they freedomEverytime son, rhymes too pretty'll get your mascara smearedWhen they did, my buddy Spanky I bust out in tearsThe world would be a better place to live, if it was less queersI still see, punk ass bitches.. bitches..Chorus[Gipp]Get up off and give me room, activate, motivateY'all from the section where the straight shit, straight up off the topBlock for block, yo we got the ??, wait for daysGone up off the Purple Haze, when you see me call me Mr. GippShoot em from the hip, everytime I'm in my 84 Sedan Devilleblock me off and watch me peel, Big Boi grill ridin through the parkon the weekend ain't no stoppin keep it dippin that's how we trippinLookin mean, you too clean behind the glassWatch yo' ass, keep yo' elbows out the windowsand my hands upon the wood wheel, money in my socksLookin out, for the cops, and for the haters got a fifty shotwhatever you wanna call it, nigga what? What?Chorus[T-Mo]Now watch em slide like some finger lickin chicken, bout to start clickinHoe better know who the true G's are, I'm the star, brand new carDope ki lyrical cascade height, SWATS type, mic soldierBlowin composer, chief of that doja, told ya when I was olderI wanted to live the good life, money over that bull, got that pullStomach full, posse thick, niggaz wish, at a young ageGoodie Mo.B., doin they thang, I, pray, for, changeand my players in this game it's insane, how this 'caineis bringin em pain, young'un doin time dyin by this grindA-T-L, fine this just how it's goin downAnd the sound, watch your mouth in this motherfuckin Dirty SouthNigga check it out, dirty SWATS got SPOTSChorusmore free lyrics