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Testo SOUTH ATL - HardRock

Testo della canzone SOUTH ATL (HardRock), tratta dall'album My Gift To You

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah
South Atlanta with the sticks
South Atlanta with the bricks
I can't give my all to no lil' bitch
I make money for talkin' my shit
My boy like to jack, put 'em on a lick
My boy like to shoot, I ain't talkin' flicks
Might just go bustdown on a trick
I put a whole bustdown on the wrist
Yeah, yeah, yeah
They all want my help, but they won't give it back
Bust at they whip 'til the tires flat
Pull up beside 'em now, nigga, he whacked
Rule number one, don't you mess with a slatt
Designer sticks and designer the patch
Blunts in the pack, got runtz in the Scat
Ride with the switch, I ride with the MAC
My homies be poppin' a whole lotta pills
I wish you could feel how the fuck I feel
Know that that boy wanna live the way I live
Tryna make it out the spot, I know how it is
Yeah, okay, flip that pack, make it go both ways
I can see from afar that that boy two-faced
I done see shit, take a lot for it to faze me
Who else in this runnin' the game? Me
Ask God for forgiveness, save me
Still runnin' the game out at a full speed
Wouldn't go for that shit if it was me
Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay
Now you feel stupid, boy, you feel like a dumbo
Gotta get the packs out the door, nigga, pronto
Smoke a opp nigga just like fuckin' Fronto
The gang shit is forever
Designer attire, the leather
The bitch thought that we were together
The bitch thought that we were forever
I make my moves on my own, whatever I do, I don't tell her
I just wanna go far away and be out the mix forever
'Cause it used to be South Atlanta with the sticks
South Atlanta with the bricks
I can't give my all to no lil' bitch
I make money for talkin' my shit
My boy like to jack, put 'em on a lick
My boy like to shoot, I ain't talkin' flicks
Might just go bustdown on a trick
I put a whole bustdown on the wrist
Yeah, yeah, yeah
They all want my help, but they won't give it back
Bust at they whip 'til the tires flat
Pull up beside 'em now, nigga, he whacked
Rule number one, don't you mess with a slatt
Designer sticks and designer the patch
Blunts in the pack, got runtz in the Scat
Ride with the switch, I ride with the MAC
My homies be poppin' a whole lotta pills
I wish you could feel how the fuck I feel
Know that that boy wanna live the way I live
Tryna make it out the spot, I know how it is
Yeah, okay, flip that pack, make it go both ways
I can see from afar that that boy two-faced
I done see shit, take a lot for it to faze me
Who else in this runnin' the game? Me
Ask God for forgiveness, save me
Still runnin' the game out at a full speed
Wouldn't go for that shit if it was me
Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay
Now you feel stupid, boy, you feel like a dumbo
Gotta get the packs out the door, nigga, pronto
Smoke a opp nigga just like fuckin' Fronto
The gang shit is forever
Designer attire, the leather
The bitch thought that we were together
The bitch thought that we were forever
I make my moves on my own, whatever I do, I don't tell her
I just wanna go far away and be out the mix forever
'Cause it used to be-
South Atlanta with the sticks
South Atlanta with the bricks
South Atlanta with the sticks
South Atlanta with the bricks
Oh, yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Thomas Brent Herrick, Elijah Smith, Peyton Mcdowell, Barry Israel Holloway
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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