[Chorus - Nelly]
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It's a Midwest thang y'all
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And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue)
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Why my Cutlass blue
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And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too
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It's a Midwest Swang y'all
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Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip)
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While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay)
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Cuz we do big thangs
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On the motherfuckin' hip
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[Verse 1 - Nelly]
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What you think, we live on a farm? Nigga, be for real
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We got Benz's, Rovers' and Jag's, Hummer's and Deville's
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Got a green S Class, ain't broke the do' seal
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Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel
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This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil
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Five and countin', dirty six at will
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Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide
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I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at 9
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I hear'em cryin', "You gon' sell out"
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Ya damn right, I done sold out before
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And re-caught the same night
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Straight hopped the next flight
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Too *Icey* for sunlight
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Dunkin' without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty
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I'm from the Show-Me State
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Show me seven I'll show you eight
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Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans
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Representin' St. Louis everytime I breathe
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In the city I touch down, and I bob and weave, ay
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[Chorus]
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[Verse 2 - Murphy Lee]
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I sport my beeper on my boots
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That's why I be a buzz when I kick
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Maybe it's on my lips, it's chaos when I spit
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Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic
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Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo' shit
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Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit
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I'm the Pookey of the backyard
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All colors and all types like a junkyard
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High young boy with high young ways
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Cuz I connect three blunts and be high for three days
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You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here)
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Probably couldn't tell cuz I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere)
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I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)
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TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)
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I don't curr (care), hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair)
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10 and a half in the Airforce Ones, give me two purr (pair) ugh
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I'm from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang
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One rapper, two rings and three chains
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[Verse 3 - Kyjuan]
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Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V12 horses
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Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce's
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Back porches made for hide and go seek
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We got space out here, we can ride and cheif
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Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us
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By the time they catchin' up, we smokin' up
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And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark
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St. Louis sportin' the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch
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My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle
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Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin' cargos
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We racin' down Skinker, see how fast a car go
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Granny be like "Ay, ya ya" like Ricky Ricardo
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I know you wanna know why we do what we do
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You cats ain't got a clue why the Cutlass blue
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Brand new 22's on new UP's
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With one, two, three, four, five TV's
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[Chorus]
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[Verse 4 [Big Lee A.K.A. Ali)]
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I'm sittin' on the front porch, writin' a hood rhyme
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Waitin' on my connect to deliver that good line
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Wish I would find, one seed in my weed
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Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed
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Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen
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Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken
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Hidin' in the back with the po' po'
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Stickin' my do'do', man they some ho' hooo's
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They put the gun to my earr
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You know the law don't fear
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Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clearr
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They had me face down in the skreet (street)
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Errbody (everybody) watchin', thinkin' Ima pull the heat
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And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet (street)
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And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps
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Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD
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Beat the K, fuck coke, now I'm back on my granny poche (porch) hustlin'
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[Chorus til fade out]
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-----------------
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Midwest Swing
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St. Lunatics |