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Lauryn Hill - How We Ride in Dah South lyrics
Khujo
 Gipp
 T-Mo (Uh-huh)
 Y'all know how we do it down here in this dirty, man
 It's your boy Nitty, and you know what I do
 We gone represent this thing right to the fullest (alright)
 Southwest (what?), Dent (who?), East Point (what?), College Park, where y'all at?
 All my niggaz, you know what time it is
 Y'all know how we get down
 To the fullest
 Alright
 Let's do it
 [Verse 1: Khujo]
 K to the H to the U to the J to the O G double O D to the I to the E
 One for the G MO to the B
 Schooled by the B to the E to the S to the T
 Hundred percenter, so winner
 Suck up and see the venom like it ain't no thing
 Then wash it down it with a glass of Tang
 Bang cock suck them rappers mouthing off in a magazine
 See the fire, feel the flame
 Jacktime Atlanta mafia came
 We don't care who you with
 Screw your name
 Snatch your chain
 Street punks messing up the game
 Once a lame, always a lame
 Trick busters ain't who they claim
 Come around here wiling out, you will get changed
 It's business, never personal
 Get it with a chain on your brain
 Get it with a lick we, um, at a shooting range
 You can holler God MC, but you gone die like a man
 Blood is pain
 I make it simple and plain
 Blat point blank range
 All these poppas leave the bathroom in his name
 It's a crying shame
 What a nigga do for the fame!
 [Ad-libs]
 This is what really goes down in the South
 We gone get down shawty
 [Chorus: repeat 2X]
 Drank smoke dro
 Stack dough
 Pimp hoes
 Pockets on swole with a mouth full of gold
 How we ride in the South
 Playing house four doors
 Drop the top when it's hot
 Pump the heat when it's cold
 [Verse 2: Big Gipp]
 Remember me?
 Big Gipp, AKA the Big Dipper
 Moon pot flipper
 If the flame fizzle
 I'm a go to the block and set the niggaz
 Most improved hitter
 In the pocket like a rocket is how I like it
 I'm a cantaloupe spitter
 Let the horn blow
 Hoes too
 Hold true and drive through
 If I couldn't walk around I took the train or flew
 Look what it come to
 More hugs, more lies, more love, more flies
 More ways of turning corners burning up my new rally tires
 I keep it stinking like Doritoes
 Never owned a pair of Speedos
 Never slacking Cadillac jacking
 Damn he just so sweet
 Choking Killa B with no tint
 Want the whole world to see
 Thorugh the tree
 Glass house, rag top, and pass out
 Hit the stash house
 Get what I need and then I mash out
 Couple turkey legs
 Throw a few golds up in my head
 Comprehend what I saidLauryn Hill - How We Ride in Dah South - http://motolyrics.com/lauryn-hill/how-we-ride-in-dah-south-lyrics.html
 This is truly how it be representing for East Point
 When I'm standing in the field
[Chorus]
 [Verse 3: Murder]
 You can find me
 Somewhere in Decatur in a Chevy and I'm riding on dubs
 Or you might see
 Me coming through the streets with a freak in the late night clubs
 Hustling for that cheese
 Standing in the hood in the cut me and my dog on a shopping spree
 From the west did a robbery and I saw my first call hit jazzy T
 Then we hit Magic City and headed for the bounce
 Blowing chronic leaves
 Or should I say dro?
 My click won't blow by the ounce
 Lyrical arsonist
 Living in the slums in Atlanta they got me for me murder
 I run with the hardest clique
 In the S.W.A.T.s to the deck I was a hard ass nigga
 Better show you we off in a velvet room
 Was fucking in a gentleman club
 We in VIP
 Sipping crystal
 From the goose to the yack
 We can see SOV, Goodie MO B my nigga Khujo
 On a plate trying to get rich
 The way that we spit be ridiculous
 And we'll go head over any lyricist
 From Gooben to Cambleton Road
 Platinum making fee all the way to College Park
 From Bankhead to Gabbey Road
 My whole clique nothing in the city ever born so hard
 So
 This is for
 The niggaz with the dough and whips sitting on two threes
 So all the real motherfuckers can forget about the ghetto with a real 'Lac
 in the streets
[Chorus]
 [Verse 4: T-Mo]
 It's the dirty dirty playa
 Just hit thirty
 Bullseye
 Better not cry
 Make birds fly
 Off in the sky
 Away so high
 Everybody dies
 Many try, miss
 Get what you get boy
 Talk that shit boy
 Flip them bills
 Crooks get killed
 Nine millimill
 Running them suckers up out the ville
 Trill
 Still, waters run deep
 Off in the South
 While they sleep
 Off in the South
 While they creep
 Open up your mouth and sing!
 Off in the South we
 Built this bitch
 Run this bitch
 Hit that switch
 Up and down
 Flip that trick
 Ride it 'round
 Black white doors
 Pound for pound one of the best to ever represent the mighty southwest
 ATL to the fullest
 ATL to the fullest!
 [Ad-libs]
 There you have it
 I want to congratulate all the DJs
 Who got a chance to play this record without the club getting tore up
 From yours truly
 Sincerely
 Nitty








