Lyrics:
blowing through the pinewood trees
And the folks down there live a life of ease
When old mammy falls upon her knees
It's sleepy time down south
Steamboats
Street when
I hit the booth
A motivational speaker when I speak the truth
Come down to Pensacola if you need some proof
I could mess your smile up
Like
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
Abusin, confusin and beatin it
Son, I know about these streets and shit
Don't test me
I don't let time stress me
Remain on the even kill, I'm in the realm
broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas don't be trippin don't be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya dont want that shit
Cause its gone be naughty, by nature
Fuck a playa hater
Ima come through
And ya know Im down to spray
Hennessy different
You get ya crew jammed up
I got my blue bands up
I'll put you down when we come in
Contact like this two hand touch
Arsonal puts his hands
tell my baby I'm up here in St. Louis
Oh, but I'm just as blue as I can be
Now bluebird, when you get to Jackson
I want you to fly down on Shannon
ducking when you running or they gonna hit ya
Them West side guys will get ya
Burning the rubber off the 20's before they get with ya
Them South side boys
don't know these places
All the way from Bensonhurst down to Mill Basin
Coney Island so iconic, time we make a statement
Every summer drinkin'
tell my baby I'm up here in St. Louis
Oh, but I'm just as blue as I can be
Now bluebird, when you get to Jackson
I want you to fly down on Shannon
cloth like some
offering in our way, obscure and open if we dig
down in it soft, dirty, south all under the world,
is gone off in the national
headed
MUTHAFUCKA, where's a rhyme when you need it?
First rule of lyrical war, never repeat it
You said that same bullshit at House of Blues
Lit the pipe,
a wide mouth
Like geese who
When it's cold fly south
To a divine route
But these kids wanna wild out
Just trying to buy clout
They're some spineless clowns
And get ready to clown,
Nigga call up the homies,
It's about to go down
(Chorus)
Keep one eye open,
Cause the streets don't sleep,
If the streets
(Pay attention)
Yo, SB (Holiday Season, nigga)
Ha (go hard)
I think it's my time, you know why? (Go hard)
My tears have dried
And I know that
young Gs will grip, then blast
Have you tried in the street? Fuck findin' my feet
I could ride, but it's better when I'm ridin a beat
My emotions are
amazed to find you listening
Cause it's a hard time comin' when you want some English tea and I want beer
So just hear me out when I tell you
and try to take it back
When we was mournin' on the south side of the Raq
This was the funerals we had on the 9
I lost my auntie, that sent chills up my
I can indulge in
Before they life is unfolding
In front of them
All this time don't kick it none of them
Imma stay on the moon you just say
When
felon ya bitch
From the cold hearted streets of the LBC
To a mansion in the south down the street from my nigga P
See, real niggas recognize
it
See, how many times have we done this, man?
How many clique songs have you heard over
The years from the South Park Coalition?
All the way down
that I'm 'bout it already, I can prove it
so when they hear my voice, they all know I come to do shit
Mia X representin', puttin' it down for the south
.jpg/292px-Sidney_Bechet,_Freddie_Moore,_Lloyd_Phillips_(Gottlieb_00521).jpg "Sidney Bechet & the Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street")
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