Chorus [Nelly] 

It's a Midwest thang y'all 

And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue) 

Why my Cutlass blue 

And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too 

It's a Midwest Swang y'all 

Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip) 

While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay) 

Cuz we do big thangs 

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 do' seal 

Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel 

This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil 

Five and countin', dirty six at will 

Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide 

I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at 9 

I hear'em cryin', "You gon' sell out" 

Ya damn right, I done sold out before 

And re-caught the same night 

Straight hopped the next flight 

Too *Icey* for sunlight 

Dunkin' without Sprite, yea 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 the city I touch down, and I bob and weave, ay 

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' shit 

Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit 

I'm the Pookey of the backyard 

All colors and all types like a junkyard 

High young boy with high young ways 

Cuz I connect three blunts and be high for three days 

You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here) 

Probably couldn't tell cuz I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere) 

I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air) 

TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare) 

I don't curr (care), hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair) 

To the half in them Airforce 1's, give me two purr (pair) ugh 

I'm from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang 

One rapper, two rings and three chains 

Verse 3 [Kyjuan] 

Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V12 horses 

Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce's 

Back porches made for hide and go seek 

We got space out here, we can ride and cheif 

Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us 

By the time they catchin' up, we smokin' up 

And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark 

St. Louis sportin' the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch 

My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle 

Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin' car do's (doors) 

We racin' down sneakers, see how fast a car go 

Granny be like "Ay, ya ya" 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 22's on new UP's 

With one, two, three, four, five TV's 

Chorus 

Verse 4 [Big Lee A.K.A. 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 Chinamen 

Two ???, some blunts and Heineken 

Hidin' in the back with the po' po' 

Stickin' my do'do', man they some ho' hooo's 

They put the gun to my earr 

You know the Lord don't fear 

Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clearr 

They had me face down in the skreet (street) 

Errbody (everybody) watchin', thinkin' Ima pull the heat 

And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet (street) 

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 poche (porch) hustlin'