All A's

[Chorus: x2 Goodie Mob] I got to feed, the beat, the gat on the seat Faking ain't these girls fake when they see they face in the paint Mustard and mayonnaise, and we smoke always Passing by these haters like we got all A's [Backbone] Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street? Nothing but hard times, working this concrete I'm getting dirty looks from niggas, on the next street over They was in my filthy, fiending getting closer I'm in my seventy-nine, flying Mobbed out so they can't see me when I'm riding They slow me down, holla like we buddy buddy But at the same time I know these motherfuckers want to mug me Okay gun play at the one-way one day with you But I'll do years, if I bust these niggas Keep point four-five calibers of chrome I'm, coming forth to carry you home [Chorus] [Cee-Lo] Yo, well you damn right, dig it they call me Sugar Delight Uh oh hoe, Willie cutting virgin broads tonight Blowing like a boss, that champion chief in cost And oh my dual exhaust, will make your shit get lost There's something bout these guns that give these hoes asthma attacks These are actual facts, I ain't been in no actual car-jacks But let me tell you this, I'll burn a nigga ass up to a crisp Riding with these two glocks, we goin' bounce on off, on the new shocks My nigga don't hate me, cause I ain't hated, but we related No one including me, should be underestimate But don't you dare ride through the SWATS without, at least 30 shots Cause I'm telling ya, these Southern boys goin' get all they got [Chorus] [Khujo] Pop it in, get to work, brains blow, ? Off the block before your carcass drop Can't share nothing with the niggaoles, stealing socks Out your cornbread dream too, if you got those, leaving deaf hoes Brown, on the outside, pink, in the middle Ain't, barring none hundred round draw Nothing under seventy-five, and I get slick ? Taking no prisoners cuffed, they die fighting for they freedom Everytime son, rhymes too pretty'll get your mascara smeared When they did, my buddy Spanky I bust out in tears The world would be a better place to live, if it was less queers I still see, punk ass bitches, bitches [Chorus] [Gipp] Get up off and give me room, activate, motivate Why'all from the section where the straight shit, straight up off the top Block for block, yo we got the ??, wait for days Gone up off the Purple Haze, when you see me call me Mr. Gipp Shoot em from the hip, every time I'm in my 84 Sedan Deville Block me off and watch me peel, Big Boi grill riding through the park On the weekend ain't no stopping keep it dipping that's how we tripping Looking mean, you too clean behind the glass Watch yo' ass, keep yo' elbows out the windows And my hands upon the wood wheel, money in my socks Looking out, for the cops, and for the haters got a fifty shot Whatever you want to call it, nigga what? What? [Chorus] [T-Mo] Now watch em slide like some finger licking chicken, bout to start clicking Hoe better know who the true G's are, I'm the star, brand new car Dope ki lyrical cascade height, SWATS type, mic soldier Blowing composer, chief of that doja, told ya when I was older I wanted to live the good life, money over that bull, got that pull Stomach full, posse thick, niggas wish, at a young age Goodie Mo.B., doing they thing, I, pray, for, change And my players in this game it's insane, how this 'caine Is bringing em pain, youngin' doing time dying by this grind A-T-L, fine this just how it's going down And the sound, watch your mouth in this motherfucking Dirty South Nigga check it out, dirty swats got spots [Chorus]