Ludacris - Southern Gangsters lyrics
He's a hustler, unbound by law A self-made millionaire With a reckless disregard for the haters Ludacris on Southern Gangsta A true entrepre-negro CEO of Disturbing Tha Peace Records He expanded his empire Into multiple profitable businesses Includin' his Thai food restaurant, Straits Internet sites, WeMix.com And my favorite, MyGhetto.com The MVP of this rap sh** Luda, I'm a hustler, baller, gangsta, cap peeler I stay strapped like your neighborhood trap dealer I got rifles that blow ya below ya bible belt And Mac-11's that leave you wetter than Michael Phelps But you'll be swimmin' with the fishes Softer than b**hes washin' dishes Fool, what's the business? I'm already rich, so talk mo' figures Spit thirty large for cigars of you hoe n***az I got gangstas that'll rearrange ya whole face And put your casket on ice, now that's a cold case Never forget where you come or that block'll bang you I keep my ear to the streets like a co*ker spaniel I co*k and blast you into outer space Break every bone in ya, you so out of place Boom without a trace, you a bluff to block I got some red beams, let's play connect the dots He's the biggest boss, comin' outta the MIYayo Straight from the port of Miami To keepin' it trilla Involved in many heated acts of violence This goes deeper than rap sh** He's worth eight figures So young n***az, boss up I present to you, Rick Ross, the boss I got a letter from the government the other day I opened and read it, it said we want hustlers Had a Lexus at eighteen, picture that Got a Chevy with pictures on it from pitchin' crack b**h I know Haitians, we speakin' Creole b**h I'm a D-boy, still slingin' kilos I got twenty cars, why exaggerate? It cost me five grand just to fill the gas tanks Love the marble floors, got the Greek pillows Frontin' at awards, real street n***az I used to serve shake, now I serve steaks Three squares on the road, call it third ba** Big a** face, chop you in your laugh face Shoot his a**, aim defense is the last case Keep Jewish friends, the newest Benz You in a pool of blood, let me see you swim Hailin' from College Park, Georgia Authorities figured they must have been some sort of mob Or illegal organization According to authorities, they made a quarter mil' a week Sellin' [Incomprehensible] They were some high rollin' hustlers Tity Boi and Dolla Boy Playaz Circle aka the Duffel Bag Boys Uh, I'm so sick I wrote this verse in a hospital It's an election year, I support struggle We roll like bicycles, icicle flow White liquor, my n***a stay on line with the blow I'm on time with the flow, not a minute nor second late Ain't no such thing as second place And every day I live heavyweight, you n***az featherweight Fairytale tellin' n***az really need to take a break And the estate got a lake for a backyard The pool room product put it all on my sacks card For real? Yeah, for real I'm ill, I deal, I did, I will I got dogs like Cujo, me and Tity two chains ridin' in a two do' b**hes catch kudos, you know Yeah, we move weight like sumos And kicks it with them b**hes like judo southside Playaz Circle, Rick Ross, Ludacris This has been another episode of Southern Gangsta Thanks for tunin' in, what's next for Luda? Well, anything's possible in the Theater of the Mind