Lyrics:
between real leather
And that shit at yo' house.
I don't know what why'all doin' up there,
But we really pimpin' in the South.
Every since I was 17,
I
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
Black-Ty, David Banner, Lil Scrappy
Down South what you scared of, nigga what!
As soon as I walked in the club
I start lookin' for a girl who
One, two, three...
BILLY the Mountain
BILLY the Mountain
A regular picturesque
Postcardy mountain
Residing between lovely
Rosamond and Gorman
the practioner
If this is read one week by the devotee with concentration
Or two weeks or three weeks he would get long life
Following rules if this armour
as fuck, try to deny me now
Reaching ma pinacle, who the truest ne by me now
I give it to you raw, live, word of mouth
Coming out the South, automatic, POM
even if I died last I’d be survived by nothing but class
They knew my vision was the future From way back in da past I left them to laugh and hate while
a pimpin day so...
I slide on my 'llac with black alligators
Feather in my hat wit a 3 piece tux
Ice in my grill plus my rollie stay plush
Don't got no main
street
Chilling by a black Cadillac on sum black feet
Scrappy in a Chevy watching Scarface on the flat screen
Told y'all constantly, ride wit the pump
now Big Boy
Outcast like three stacks
Laying all it in the Cadillac
With a red bone giving
Me dome my music on with the seats back
Ludacris this is
UndenYable we giving em hell
So unstoppable ain't no way to fail
Only option is to go in and kill
This our year if I must say so myself
We three
Got a girl from the south side, got braids in her hair
First time I seen her walk by, man, I 'bout fell up out my chair
Had to get her number, it
This song is dedicated to Nipsey Hussle and Kobe Bryant
Where I come from.
There’s palm trees, sticky green
4’s on dee’s, clean on 3
out the fire, get caught by the nine
Run through alley ways all in Cherry Bay
It's real in the field, either kill or be killed
Like BG so they got
Step Savage baby, he's International
95 South, North soundboi dope running
Always on the move, always into something
360-degree, 3D compass jumpin
But I'm not a bank I don't even trust my bitch
I'm from the south, and I got diamonds in my mouth
[Chorus: x3]
vigorous
Stroke that nigga like a zig zag rolled cigarette,
And I do it to get my dick wet
Brain grain rotten, I was a 12 year old gettin' raped by my
this south is sho' nuff trill, now shit
When we on your side of town, we don't ask why
We abide by the rules that why'all live by
And see, you're
fire)
I send holy ghost fire( holy ghost fire)*3,
In that there trees( holy ghost fire)
In that there land,
Even that evil alter(burn by fire),
Even that
brother's glock
And that's the day my life changed 'cause that night he got shot
Killed by another crip over his Rolex watch
I got high for three years off
[ Havoc ]
Yo, this Havoc the Mouthpiece from the S.C.C.
I only got three words to say:
South - Central - Madness
[ Prode'je ]
Hoo-ridin in
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
I'm groovy, I'm cooling, I'm chilling, I'm flexing, the man in the south
Shine bright, real niggaz know what i'm talking about
What we talking about,
[Three Minutes and Fourteen Seconds of an instrumental]
Yo man, a nigga gotta say SOMETHIN' to this track man,
I hate to interrupt y'all boys
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