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St. Lunatics Free City Midwest Swing [Chorus - Nelly] 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 do 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' [Chorus til fade out] |
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