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Nappy Roots
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Awnaw(Remix)
作詞：Melvin Adams, Ryan Anthony, James Chambers, William Hughes, Brian Scott
Yo, Nappy roots
Awnaw
Awnaw, hell, naw, man
Y'all done up and done it
Awnaw, hell, naw, boy
Y'all done up and done it
Awnaw, hell, naw, man
Y'all done up and done it
Y'all done up and done it, man
Y'all done up and done it
My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hook
You hear me flippin' thru my pages out my favorite notebook
The microphone was in the closet, no headphones, we lost it
Niggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin' over the faucets
No AC, Tez'll break a sweat just tryin' to make beats
E-Double's been the hustler, flirtin' with all his customers
And flat broke, Nappy smokin' grass out on the back po'ch
I'm thinkin' I got everything a country boy could ask for
Now, what we do to get here? Say dat, boy
Lay it down and bring it to ya raw, say dat, boy
Hey now, we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for
Hated for for the cussin, but the hatred it made us cuss more
Held on, but it was hard, stepped up, took charge
Ran thru what we scared up, but what was we afraid for?
Look what we made of, heart that what made us
Being here is alright, but must believe we won't fall
Them country boys on the ride
With them big fat wheels on the side
Peep the vertical grills on the ride
And aaw, aaw, aaw, aaw
Them country boys
With them big fat wheels
Peep the vertical grills
And aww
My llel gon' be hogwild bet that from that roota to that toota-file
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Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles
Kentucky mah, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred-spokes
Skullied on that front po'ch, 'cuz you know they got 'dro
Seventy-nine Coupe DeVille, purdy cal, patty grill
Interstate 65, headin' down to Cashfield
Glass filled, to the tippy-top, back-seat Benz
Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints
A damn shame, gotta grind anythang and everythang
Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane
A long time, a gravel road, to cash and fame and sold my soul
To Hell and back, and back and forth, with same jeans and nappy 'fro
I might, hop off the Harley, spoke mine like Bob Marley
Not parties with charities, wallin' like they swallowin' Bacardi
Them butter-skin, probably gutted like kin
Understand you 'bout to lose ya life, fuckin' with Deion
Them country boys on the ride
With them big fat wheels on the side
Peep the vertical grills on the ride
And aaw, aaw, aaw, aaw
Them country boys
With them big fat wheels
Peep the vertical grills
And aww
Them country boys
With them big fat wheels
Peep the vertical grills
And aww
Them country boys on the ride
With them big fat wheels on the side
Peep the vertical grills on the ride
And aaw, aaw, aaw, aaw
Them country boys
With them big fat wheels
Peep the vertical grills
And aww
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