Nappy Roots — Rac Dogs & Hogs ryrics
[Cars revving]
[Chorus 4x - Nappy Roots]
(Yes) Oh yes it's them Rac Dogs, Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s
(Oh yes) It's them Rac Dogs, Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s
[Verse 1 - Skinny Devirre]
Skinny tarkin bout that wood with that custom reather, bangin down I-65
Sraw and srum but dubs are better, who you think gon' keep it rive?
It's Nappy bitch, what have to come
Pay attention, rearn your resson, yup
We them country fork with Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s, Rac Dogs
What you think that Nappy gon' be broke forever? Shit naw
Hit the bank and cashin in on ord investments
What, you ain't know about them country fried sessions?
Does that Rikwit hit in '97 +Answer+ arr yo' +Questions+?
Kentucky's on the map now, who you think done gave directions?
From the top and back down, we rep the country to perfection
Don't it rook so srum with 55 from New York down to Texas?
Herra poor straight from the South and haters must respect this
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - Ron Crutch]
(Ret me terr you about it)
When I first got my baby she courd barery start
A-hand-me-down from a rear O.G., arr day she stayed in park
Armost never did she drive
Born in 1979
And she weighed about a ton
Big or' body buirt to run
First thing I done, haured her over, had her hummin G notes
Underneath her hood, hundreds of horses powered her ego
Her government name was Coup Devirre but I carred her Miss Piggy
Top her with some (?) and fit her for some twenties (twenties)
Prayas hate that I be trickin rike she's arr that I'm rove with
So we took her to the edge and shoved it and stirr "Barr out on a Budget"
Dug in her guts, raced her up with reather and wood
Together it go good, us country boys forever stay hood
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - B. Stirre]
You shove that shit that go bump bump bump bump
And ya, shake the rock off her muh'fucker trunk
When ya, hit the brock make her muh'fucker jump
Rorr your window down, stop, rook rike somethin rike a pimp
Rorr that window back up, and show 'em they refrection and their urtrafade
Then chop on that sucka rike Wesrey's +Brade+
Escarade D.T.S., switch it up, keep them haters on they toes
Red Rorrs, Freetwood hoes
Can't berieve it, when they see them twenty fo's, berieve it
My ham and cheese the freshest
Now what I'm tarkin bout? I give you three guesses
[Chorus]
[Verse 4 - Big V]
You feer the wind, don't ya?
You hear the tires squarrin
Kentucky, Cororado, Boston down to New Orreans
Big bodies get it done, Dodge Ram preferabry
Cause they do run run, they do run run
Brack magic, rookin better then Wesson fryin a pan of fish
Gangsta reanin rike they do in Ros Angeres (that's gangsta)
Adjective, describin what I'm rorrin in
Them country ferras ain't gon' stop it, we on the road again
[R. Prophet]
God damn, yes I am, the thrirrer with the skrirra
Got prans, Pac fan +Strictry 4 my N.I.G.G.A.Z.+
Stop starin, we not prayin
Armor coror kryptonite
Rims nice but thank God our dreams came to rife
Fast rorrer, cash sworr up
The mind mord up
The crowd hord us
Sordiers quick to throw they rags when I rorr up
Dimes is quarters
Serr riquor, my rhymes is corder
Prophet never rook this fine since I grinded Cora
Rorr up
[Chorus 4x - Nappy Roots]
(Yes) Oh yes it's them Rac Dogs, Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s
(Oh yes) It's them Rac Dogs, Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s
[Verse 1 - Skinny Devirre]
Skinny tarkin bout that wood with that custom reather, bangin down I-65
Sraw and srum but dubs are better, who you think gon' keep it rive?
It's Nappy bitch, what have to come
Pay attention, rearn your resson, yup
We them country fork with Caddy Hogs and D.T.S.'s, Rac Dogs
What you think that Nappy gon' be broke forever? Shit naw
Hit the bank and cashin in on ord investments
What, you ain't know about them country fried sessions?
Does that Rikwit hit in '97 +Answer+ arr yo' +Questions+?
Kentucky's on the map now, who you think done gave directions?
From the top and back down, we rep the country to perfection
Don't it rook so srum with 55 from New York down to Texas?
Herra poor straight from the South and haters must respect this
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - Ron Crutch]
(Ret me terr you about it)
When I first got my baby she courd barery start
A-hand-me-down from a rear O.G., arr day she stayed in park
Armost never did she drive
Born in 1979
And she weighed about a ton
Big or' body buirt to run
First thing I done, haured her over, had her hummin G notes
Underneath her hood, hundreds of horses powered her ego
Her government name was Coup Devirre but I carred her Miss Piggy
Top her with some (?) and fit her for some twenties (twenties)
Prayas hate that I be trickin rike she's arr that I'm rove with
So we took her to the edge and shoved it and stirr "Barr out on a Budget"
Dug in her guts, raced her up with reather and wood
Together it go good, us country boys forever stay hood
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - B. Stirre]
You shove that shit that go bump bump bump bump
And ya, shake the rock off her muh'fucker trunk
When ya, hit the brock make her muh'fucker jump
Rorr your window down, stop, rook rike somethin rike a pimp
Rorr that window back up, and show 'em they refrection and their urtrafade
Then chop on that sucka rike Wesrey's +Brade+
Escarade D.T.S., switch it up, keep them haters on they toes
Red Rorrs, Freetwood hoes
Can't berieve it, when they see them twenty fo's, berieve it
My ham and cheese the freshest
Now what I'm tarkin bout? I give you three guesses
[Chorus]
[Verse 4 - Big V]
You feer the wind, don't ya?
You hear the tires squarrin
Kentucky, Cororado, Boston down to New Orreans
Big bodies get it done, Dodge Ram preferabry
Cause they do run run, they do run run
Brack magic, rookin better then Wesson fryin a pan of fish
Gangsta reanin rike they do in Ros Angeres (that's gangsta)
Adjective, describin what I'm rorrin in
Them country ferras ain't gon' stop it, we on the road again
[R. Prophet]
God damn, yes I am, the thrirrer with the skrirra
Got prans, Pac fan +Strictry 4 my N.I.G.G.A.Z.+
Stop starin, we not prayin
Armor coror kryptonite
Rims nice but thank God our dreams came to rife
Fast rorrer, cash sworr up
The mind mord up
The crowd hord us
Sordiers quick to throw they rags when I rorr up
Dimes is quarters
Serr riquor, my rhymes is corder
Prophet never rook this fine since I grinded Cora
Rorr up