Once again up in that south from my motherfucking mouth
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and creeping up on y'all niggas like a motherfucking mouse
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Stepping on these tracks like fags and drag queens
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And shitting on you busters like I ate some bake beans
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Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hits
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We never straight jam with no busters our no tricks
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Getting in trouble from the sounds of my trunk
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and keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk
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[Chorus:]
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What, What [in background]
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Now drop dem bozs' on 'em [repeat 16X]
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Nigga bozs' bout to turn out the show
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Crankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoe
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Flipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking round
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It's time lay it down putting it all up on the line
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Ain't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoes
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All these niggas what they made us from dem' boz and craters
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While lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flop
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Underground where we dwell, the hell with hip hop
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Southside just reckless, from GA to Texas
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And next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexus
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But it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I see
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The mo' hating niggas try me
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Big baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade me
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Better sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me
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From a place called T-town be down in the south
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Where dem' players throw dem' boz and gold teeth in they mouth
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And dump dump if ya' jump jump
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The club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pump
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through yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like Beaker
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All the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter
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From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to Alabama
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I be damn a club ain't crunk in this manner
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I can't stand a weak buster
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For all the freaks, hustla's, to the clothes
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Y'all gotta get it crunk and drop dem boz, drop dem boz
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[Chorus]
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|
I can't afford bigger, how ya' figga'
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that you gone stop me from stacking six figures
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Now you hating on me, because my game so tight
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And could you be mad because I fucked ya' wife
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Well it's true, that's the price nigga check that hoe
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I'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro'
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So stop talking all that shit, and trying to buck
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I'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' fucked up, now what's up
|
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Now ladies are you tired of trick bitches in yo' mix
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Acting like they want, to lick on yo' shit
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Critizing, everything that you do
|
and telling ya' who, and who not to screw
|
Nasty hoes, that ain't clean and shit
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They go around sucking on every dope boys dick
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Now is these hoes really yo' friend or yo' foes
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You tell me, while ya' drop dem' bozs'
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[Chorus]
|
|
Now if the club packed y'all from wall to wall
|
And everybody trying to ball, coz sizing all
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Ain't nothing but love in the air, we geeing and macking
|
Some haters off in there, but at least they ain't macking
|
You got cha' cup filled up, ya' niggas is crunk
|
Put cha' hands in the air represent where ya' from
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I'm from the GA baby, where freaks is shady
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Man it can be so crazy, so we burn trees daily
|
When the beat a drop, everybody just lock ya' boz and shake dem' hoes
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And proceed to rock, from the front to the back
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with the blunts and gats, on the hunt for some cat or a fat ass sack
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Tear da' roof off the club, show you niggas some love
|
and fill a swishe up with bud for my g's and thugs
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Now dem' haters keep watching, dem' freaks a jockin'
|
the beats is rockin', so partner want you keep on dropping
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for my thugs
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[Chorus]
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Now right now I want all my hard niggas to follow me, follow me
|
|
[Bridge:] what
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[until fade]
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That's how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk
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[repeat 7X]
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-----------------
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Get Crunk (GCWUWDA Version)
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Lil' Jon & The East Side Boyz |