Chorus:
It's a Midwest thang, y'all
An' they ain't got a clue
They ain't got a clue
Why my Cutlass blue
An' I got them thangs on that motherfucker, too
It's a Midwest swang, y'all
An' they ain't gotta trip
They ain't gotta trip
While we swing and dip
'Cause we keep that thang 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 door sill
Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel
This shit got real when I hit fo' mil'
Five and countin'
Dirty six at will
Did seven on the slide
Eight worldwide
I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at nine
I hear 'em cryin,
"You gon' sell out?"
Ya damn right
I done sold out befo' and recomped the same night
Straight hopped the next flight
Too icey for sunlight
Dunkin' without Sprite
Yeah, 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 this city, I touch down
Then I bob and weave
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 chick
Keep a quarter of some shit
I'm the Pookie of the backyard
All colors and all types like a junkyard
Hot young boy wit hot young ways
'Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days
You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round here
Probably couldn't tell 'cause I ain't walkin' nowhere
I got a old-school Cutlass, wit a hole in the ear
TV's everywhere wood grain to stare
I don't care, hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hair
To the half in them Airforce 1's, give me two pair, uh
I'm from the Lou' and what I do is a Lou' thang
One rapper, two rings, an' three chains
(Kyjuan)
Nothin' but some ole country boys that ride V-12 horses
Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforces
Back porches made for hide-and-go-seek
We got space out here, we can ride and chief
Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us
By the time they catchin' up, we smoked it up
And my eyes be red
My lips a little dark
The Lou is more than the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch
My dirty's love to spark
An' love to sparkle
Love homies ? coats wit matchin' car do's
We racin down Skinker, see how fast our car go
Granny be like, "Ay-yi-yi," 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 twenty-two's on new UP's
With one, two, three, four, five TV's
Chorus
Verse 3:
(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 China Men
Two stay hittin' some blunts and Heineken
Hidin' in the back was the po-pos
Kicked in my do'-do'
Man, they some ho-hoes
They put the gun to my ear
You know the Lord don't fear
Nann nigga, nann hoe
Let's get that bullshit clear
They had me face down in the skreet
Everybody watchin', thinkin' I'ma pull the heat
And leave the Detects wit a leak in the skreet
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 porch hustlin'
Chorus