It's a Midwest thang y'all
And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue)
Why my Cutlass blue
And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too
It's a Midwest Swang y'all
Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip)
While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay)
Cuz we keep big thangs
On the motherfuckin' hip
[Verse 1 - Nelly]
What you think, we live on a farm? Nigga, be for real
We got Benz's, Rovers' and Jag's, Hummer's and Deville's
Got a green S Class, ain't broke the do' seal
Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel
This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil
Five and countin', dirty six at will
Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide
I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at 9
I hear'em cryin', "You gon' sell out"
Ya damn right, I done sold out before
And re-caught the same night
Straight hopped the next flight
Too *Icey* for sunlight
Dunkin' without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty
I'm from the Show-Me State
Show me seven I'll show you eight
Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans
Representin' St. Louis everytime I breathe
In the city I touch down, and I bob and weave, ay
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - Murphy Lee]
I sport my beeper on my boots
That's why I be a buzz when I kick
Maybe it's on my lips, it's chaos when I spit
Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic
Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo' shit
Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit
I'm the Pookey of the backyard
All colors and all types like a junkyard
High young boy with high young ways
Cuz I connect three blunts and be high for three days
You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here)
Probably couldn't tell cuz I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere)
I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)
TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)
I don't curr (care), hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair)
10 and a half in the Airforce Ones, give me two purr (pair) ugh
I'm from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang
One rapper, two rings and three chains
[Verse 3 - Kyjuan]
Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V12 horses
Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce's
Back porches made for hide and go seek
We got space out here, we can ride and cheif
Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us
By the time they catchin' up, we smokin' up
And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark
St. Louis sportin' the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch
My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle
Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin' cargos
We racin' down Skinker, see how fast a car go
Granny be like "Ay, ya ya" like Ricky Ricardo
I know you wanna know why we do what we do
You cats ain't got a clue why the Cutlass blue
Brand new 22's on new UP's
With one, two, three, four, five TV's
[Chorus]
[Verse 4 [Big Lee A.K.A. Ali)]
I'm sittin' on the front porch, writin' a hood rhyme
Waitin' on my connect to deliver that good line
Wish I would find, one seed in my weed
Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed
Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen
Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken
Hidin' in the back with the po' po'
Stickin' my do'do', man they some ho' hooo's
They put the gun to my earr
You know the law don't fear
Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clearr
They had me face down in the skreet (street)
Errbody (everybody) watchin', thinkin' Ima pull the heat
And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet (street)
And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps
Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD
Beat the K, fuck coke, now I'm back on my granny poche (porch) hustlin'