Lyrics:
South
Packed up my tools for my raw power move
Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves
For chumps tryin to stop my flow
And what they don't know will
Stay with
Faith
Live
Patient
Don't you quit
And make shit
Make with
Aches
Can't fake
In matrix
So please guys
Felines
Keep eyes
Ears by
These lines
mouth is curse words
Pops a Mexicano, never cared much for the states
He owns a villa south of Juarez and be packing up them crates
He never misses
sire
Thought you was on top
(I'm tha King)
I pass right by ya
I will not stop and I won't retire
I came, I saw, I conquered with no big names
(I'm tha
out played, there'll be no reachin'
Ballin' in Dirty South wit' no creases
And all I see is more F-in' iced out Jesus pieces
The rock over
prices climbing
There's no sympathizing with h-s like f-ing Cardi B
Been rapping prophecies but your fact's a comedy
Your status parked South, you react
I just rolled a backwood of some s**t ion know the name to
Tryna keep composure kuz a n***a on that drank too
I just realized won’t no day go by that
be trippin dont be doin no drive-bys
Cause we dont gangbang, dont wear blue or red
We like that fuckin green, papers what I said
Big Moe wassup, in
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
L.I.F.E
L.I.F.E
L.I.F.E
Yea Uh
Started with a dream
Of luxury so supreme
Cups full of pennies
Multi million dollar schemes
Tears down my face
Watched
Modern Day Mountain Man MaxMusic 1981 Words and Music by Mark Chrisler
F# B
I pick my shirt up off the floor and tuck it into my
and you come up missing, money's afloat and you are not missing, when you F*** with mine, that's when i stop the bullS*******/ She wants to come home
right before I do the Grammy's
I do a show with Puff Daddy way out in South Miami
[Mistah F.A.B.]
Hey look I'm only in town for a night
And when I
Motherfuckin' real G's
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless
Yo Dre, what's up
Boy you should have known by now
Stop him in his tracks, show
Motherfuckin' real G's
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless
Yo Dre, what's up
Boy you should have known by now
Stop him in his tracks, show
to you as soon as you are grooving
Welcome to station W E F you N K, better known as We-Funk
Or deeper still, the Mothership Connection
Home
stop (repeat 4X)
Step into a world, where there's no one left
But the very best, no MC can test
Verse Three: KRS-One
Uhh, uhh, South Bronx
You sitin
the Chevrolet slide
As I dip and make a trip to the South side, yeah
Rollin' in my six-four
What all the bitches sayin'?
Swing down, sweet chariot, stop
the Chevrolet slide
As I dip and make a trip to the South side, yeah
Rollin' in my six-four
What all the bitches sayin'?
Swing down, sweet chariot, stop
peace to the people who try f***** with the bosses
He didn't even try but he lost it before he started
This life that I live dog I got to stay heartless
the shots, I feel like Phil Jackson
Steady trappin'
Yeah, police by my spot and I was still trappin'
Yeah, hop in the Benz
I put a F on the rim (rim)
mouth
They hot, like the jail cell in the south
Before my nigga Core bailed me out
To get by, just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
We do
mouth
They hot, like the jail cell in the south
Before my nigga Core bailed me out
To get by, just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by
We do
tell your nigga stop it, he a fuckin' fan
Put this on my baby mama, I be fuckin' fans
Yeah, yeah, yeah, in the South of France, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah,
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