Letra de West Savannah
Yeah, I'm back off in this bitch one mo' time To drop this rhyme, 'bout where my roots at Yeah, Westside is in the house Frazier Homes is in the house Cloverdale is in the house And Savannah, GA is in the house, so check it February 1st, 1975 it happened Was born in West Savannah way before I started rappin' My momma had a nigga at the age of 15 My daddy was sellin' that sack, now he's gots responsibilities Stayed at me granny's while me mammy was at work And she couldn't watch my every move so shit, I started servin' Around Frazier Home, down in the West Side projects Changin' over food stamps, and hittin' a lick was next, see I'm just a player like that, my jeans was sharply creased I got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed East So flyin', or floatin', a Brougham is what I'm sportin' Sade is in my tape deck, I'm movin' in slow motion, boy So meet me deep in the streets that's where I learned the capers Us lickin' blunts, lickin' leaves, rollin' reefer papers I'm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucket But the niggas around the ave, and the (what?) They love me (yeah) They wanna be me and my family too Because the money that I make be puttin' cable off in every room So follow the fiends, follow my lead through the nooks and crannies It's every day life off in my hood so come and holla at me But go 'head on, with that foolishness, bitch Let me get lovely with my swerve because I'm true to this shit And if you comin' with eight dollars, shit out of luck Because the West Side ain't takin' no shorts on the dime So fire it up Now now now .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (Like that now, like this, and it don't quit, and it don't stop) .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh) See, Niggas in the South wear gold teeth and gold chains Been doin' it for years, so these rookies ain't gon' change They comin' around the ghetto so you might call 'em soul Been wearin' furry Kangol's, so that shit is old You might slang a rock or two just to pay the rent Five dollars for a table dance so now your money's spent You listen to that booty shake music in your trunk As long as there's that "Tic-tic" followed by that "Bump" I'm down to stick a hoe if she got a G-strang Cause the niggas in the Pointe ain't changed, mane You might call us country, but we's only Southern And I don't give a fuck, P-Funk spot to spark another Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (Like that now, like this, and it don't stop, and it don't quit) .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh) Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh) .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (Like that and uh, like this, and it don't stop And it don't quit, it's like that and uh) Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm! (And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh) .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!