Lyrics:
[Harlettes:] This is the story of a young girl
who was the hippest chick in town.
They call her Big Noise from Winettka.
Miss Birdie's sure to get
But surprise, I have no idea what to do
Everybody, let’s get down
With the happiest man in town
How can he not be a little bit proud
With a voice so
It ain't New York City
And it ain't L.A.
We ain't got no rooftop bars
Like they do on Broadway
It's just a little town square middle of nowhere
pigs
Little handsome piggy wigs
For the big, bad the very big, very bad wolf
They did not give three figs
Number one was very gay
And he built his
In those heads a shining place, a town inside this home
We don't need you to do what we do
We don't need you to do what we do
Little lips, hammers
Yeah... Bucks... In The Bucks We Trust
I keep on getting better by the day
I'm working gotta an album on the way
I'm thankful for the blessings that
Big nothing.
He stood in the road outside of town
With a broken clockwork toy in his hand.
A graveyard for childish dreams in his palm
Are you ready to throw down?
Yes we are!
Well, get on down like your 'posed to
And give a loc a little dap when he walks through
If there be
A little man to look after
Taking rap as a joke but I see no laughter
To man Charles Suitte and big tig in Atlanta and Va
Come on and keep it real; this
and the stars shine so brightly
And I don't know about you, but I know in my heart it's true
This small town's got a big old hold on me
And it ain't lettin' go
album’s coming out
Just the perks of being frontman
Of the second biggest band in your small town
As you thank people for coming
Someone grabs you by
with all my pals
Hanging with the guys and gals
Big truck pulling up the bayou in my town
Yuck
Stuck between being bored
Popping off a glock or else I'm
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
But i don't feel shit off a perk and a bean
Ya Im whipping round town windows down in a beam
Big boy bands had to run up the racks
Bad bitch with
Workin' on the album at the same time, you know what I'm sayin?
Visionary boy (C Sick)
Yeah yeah, uh, yeah, we gon' do it for '96 (yeah)
We gon' do it
homie go do your thing"
Big DMT make you go insane
Little LSD to leave your soul untamed
Smoke THC up out a gas tank
I laugh my whole way to the bank
I
black people
Obama ain’t bad either
wait imma dumb ass see um
you ain’t never did shit for us in shot town
that’s why the murder rate whet triple-double
Big checks when I come in town
Yall still fucking with Bust Downs
I hit the field I touch the pole they hands go up nigga Touchdown
Keep the change
I'm
me all your drugs, props
Money and connections
Pick me up after school, actin' kinda shady
You the coolest kid in town
I'm your little lady
He's sick
to the bandwagon
Pull up to the bank with the big bag yeah
And that boy he a drop out
And his little bitch she a pig too
My Patek my wrist and it really a pidgin
He
You'll still see me
I go forward right by 3 3 3
I'm Jamie, don't watch J M E
I do what I want, I'm free free free
Wiley's my bredrin, he's got an album
this y'all
[Verse 1:]
Oh what a feeling! - Drivin' in my four by four
Girlies Galore! - B.I.G. on the door.
Chrome trimming - with the smoke tint
Givin
that we should
Move up a little bit form our parents' station and each
And each generation should do a little bit better
Alright, come on, let's
Here's a little story I got to tell
And this dis goes on, again and again
Uh, Uh
Here's a little story I got to tell
And this dis goes on,
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