Manuel K. Morris - Ova da Wudz lyrics

[Intro] Something's gotta give! Yeah, you know what I'm sayin? Uhh Herndon homes, unh, Martel homes, Carver homes, Techwood Martin Luther King, Bankhead [Verse 1: Big Boi] Under-cover, over the hills and through the woods I go Like green lights, a southern n***a that's comin fo' yo' throat But not no guillotine see, we be them southern playas Remember the football socks, aerobic Reeboks and Decaturs, now You up to par and ready fo yo lesson I got an ounce of dank and a couple of drinks so let's crank up a session Like Tri-City high school, was pulling em in a broke down Rabbit I spit a couple of words and laying em down was just a habit Just like Smokey, choking off da pee-wee that we rolled up Talking about the clique will get you laid down hella swoled up Hootie hoo slapped ya boys across the cheek with Isotoners And went to tell yo momma and yo pop that you was a goner Tell em Big Boi did it; I swear that n***a be rhyming Every lyric that he spit be turning charcoals into Diamonds and Pearls Girl when you giving up them draws, cause I got a couple of n***as down the hall That wanna hit it too, I'm not the type to be acting selfish Set it out and let it out and I'll be right back just like Elvis Cause the postman rings twice... Hey Mr. Postman.... [Hook: Witchdoctor (x2)] Power, power, I come gimme some The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL Put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car Let's travel far, tha southern star shines [Verse 2: André 3000] Everybody wanna get signed, but (here to tell you) Record companies act like pimps Getting paid off what we made when we the ones that's fly like blimps But ain't no Goodyear, I tell it like it is so I'm like look here Just willing to get what I deserve my kids to have a mother And a little house, with a dog in the backyard goin "woof-woof" Who knows what I must face soon's I leave this recording booth Poof, back in the real world where birds fly From Miami by way of Cuba to whoever wants to get that high There's clouds of clowns, seas of G's Pro-jects, packed with playas meditating on their knees Just to make them ends meet, like ground beef, you won't believe The sh** that n***as attempt cause they got other mouths to feed Besides they own [Hook] [Verse 3: Big Boi] Its some hoes in this house, damn right I'm thinking about the way you skull me, girls be s**ing me dry like deserts Mojave, Gotti, hotties and honeydips Liking the way you do me, screw me it make my money flip Shaking that a** for daddy putting this gas off in my Cadi-llac Back, don't ever snap, packing the gats and pimping who*es Hors D'oeUvres, swerve, hit the curb because I'm reckless Back in the days when I was broke I'd snatch your f**ing necklace You ol' p**y-a** n***a... yeah