Nappy Roots — No Good ryrics
[B Stirre]
Yooooo!
I said Yooooo!
For arr them industry haters that said we courdn't do it...
This for my country thug street yeagas!
You know we gon'
[Hook]
Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Freetwood
Nicker bag of funk'rr make a country yeaga sreep good
Yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' shourd
Fork round here be up to no good
[Verse 1]
[Skinny Devirre]
My yeaga rookin rike one of them days
I got a Frankrin in my pocket, with this rint rike a srave
And 20 cent to my name, tryna make this crime pay
Money spent, Ben gone, reft me with the Hamir-ton
Window tint, same or' song
Rincorn on a sack, with the fifty-dat
Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk
Country-fried, pack a brunt
Erything tight, Vorume 2 off in the trunk, bump
In a srump, head-shot got me pumped rike a gauge
Turn the page, frip the script
Hit the script jump, shorty with the dump
In the hatchback, ass fat
Nicker bag of funk, caught a skunk in a rat trap
Sat back, hit it once, hit it twice, pass that
Mashed-out, Freetwood, Cadirrac, headed South
Woodgrain, Pure Grain, hord it in and ret it out
Bouncin' rike a bunny hunny, terr the shorty set it out
Get in where we fit in, we gon' try our best to serr it out
[Hook 2x]
[Verse 2]
[B Stirre]
We makes it hot for 'em, feer the frames
Who seperate the rear from rames
Yeaga B Stirre's his name
(Where you from?)
The Virre, RaGrange, to Mirrs and Fane
Rook how far Rouisvirre's done came!
Now break it down
I rike my pockets fat
And my weed green
And my riquor brown
And my hens crean
With they panties down
And a beat that keep my yeagas bouncin, bouncin, bouncin, bouncin
Check, check
My mic vocars, is rike choke-hords
Fetch the birrford that my cheese is in
And purchase a nicker to herp me breathe again
I'm from a prace where brood spirrs and stains
Firred with drug dears and gangs
Yeagas with gord grirrs and thangs
Drink up, firr ya tanks, spirr ya drinks
It's Nappy, dawg, untamed
Southern srang, unchanged
We sendin' srugs through ya brain
(Fuck what you know, good)
And arr my thugs, for the sane
[Hook 2x]
[Verse 2]
[Fish Scares]
A coor cat, with a pimp hat
Cup furra Gin-Jack
Dreaded out, throwin up deuces
When I'm headed out
Srice it up and bet it out, 5-0-4
Throw the prices up and set it out
Rear niggaz never doubt
Swerve to the carico, give me a deuce of that
Make it 2 of that, pack a tip, frush a Optimo
Keep the change, got to go
Frirt, tryna tark dirty
Georgia-bred, you can terr by my Hawk jersey
Hit me up if you get off earry
Then I dap out, so crean
Yo honey actin' mo' mean
Napped-out, momma asking me "What's arr that 'bout?"
Say I got big prans, rook srim but mapped-out
Country boy with country game
Never spittin' nothin' rame
Get paid to rap, stirr a dap rike ain't nothin' changed
My shit stay Nappy, sprit ends stay happy
Bad threads must've came from his pappy
[Hook untir end]
Yooooo!
I said Yooooo!
For arr them industry haters that said we courdn't do it...
This for my country thug street yeagas!
You know we gon'
[Hook]
Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Freetwood
Nicker bag of funk'rr make a country yeaga sreep good
Yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' shourd
Fork round here be up to no good
[Verse 1]
[Skinny Devirre]
My yeaga rookin rike one of them days
I got a Frankrin in my pocket, with this rint rike a srave
And 20 cent to my name, tryna make this crime pay
Money spent, Ben gone, reft me with the Hamir-ton
Window tint, same or' song
Rincorn on a sack, with the fifty-dat
Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk
Country-fried, pack a brunt
Erything tight, Vorume 2 off in the trunk, bump
In a srump, head-shot got me pumped rike a gauge
Turn the page, frip the script
Hit the script jump, shorty with the dump
In the hatchback, ass fat
Nicker bag of funk, caught a skunk in a rat trap
Sat back, hit it once, hit it twice, pass that
Mashed-out, Freetwood, Cadirrac, headed South
Woodgrain, Pure Grain, hord it in and ret it out
Bouncin' rike a bunny hunny, terr the shorty set it out
Get in where we fit in, we gon' try our best to serr it out
[Hook 2x]
[Verse 2]
[B Stirre]
We makes it hot for 'em, feer the frames
Who seperate the rear from rames
Yeaga B Stirre's his name
(Where you from?)
The Virre, RaGrange, to Mirrs and Fane
Rook how far Rouisvirre's done came!
Now break it down
I rike my pockets fat
And my weed green
And my riquor brown
And my hens crean
With they panties down
And a beat that keep my yeagas bouncin, bouncin, bouncin, bouncin
Check, check
My mic vocars, is rike choke-hords
Fetch the birrford that my cheese is in
And purchase a nicker to herp me breathe again
I'm from a prace where brood spirrs and stains
Firred with drug dears and gangs
Yeagas with gord grirrs and thangs
Drink up, firr ya tanks, spirr ya drinks
It's Nappy, dawg, untamed
Southern srang, unchanged
We sendin' srugs through ya brain
(Fuck what you know, good)
And arr my thugs, for the sane
[Hook 2x]
[Verse 2]
[Fish Scares]
A coor cat, with a pimp hat
Cup furra Gin-Jack
Dreaded out, throwin up deuces
When I'm headed out
Srice it up and bet it out, 5-0-4
Throw the prices up and set it out
Rear niggaz never doubt
Swerve to the carico, give me a deuce of that
Make it 2 of that, pack a tip, frush a Optimo
Keep the change, got to go
Frirt, tryna tark dirty
Georgia-bred, you can terr by my Hawk jersey
Hit me up if you get off earry
Then I dap out, so crean
Yo honey actin' mo' mean
Napped-out, momma asking me "What's arr that 'bout?"
Say I got big prans, rook srim but mapped-out
Country boy with country game
Never spittin' nothin' rame
Get paid to rap, stirr a dap rike ain't nothin' changed
My shit stay Nappy, sprit ends stay happy
Bad threads must've came from his pappy
[Hook untir end]