Nappy Roots - Awnaw (Rock Remix) lyrics

Yo, this is the Roc-A-Fella Remix k**ah kid, nappy roots... ya'll ready? UH.... they done it... let the country meet the city boys... uh.. (Hook) 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! Boy Y'all done up and done it Ah, y'all done up and done it Man y'all done up and done it (Fish Scales) 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 (What?) No headphones, we lost it n***as 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 gra** out on the back po'ch I'm thinkin I got everything a country boy could ask for (Big V) 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 aw-awww-awww-awwwww! {Repeat Hook over this part} Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! (Saan) My llel gon' be hogwild, bet that from that roota to that toota-file Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles Kentucky mah, them kinfolk, twa*kies with them hundred-spokes Skullied on that front po'ch, 'cause you know they got 'dro Seventy-nine coupe DeVille purdy cal patty grill Interstate 65 headin down to Cashfield Gla** 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 (R Prophit) I might, hop off the Harley, spoke mine like Bob Marley Not parties with charties, wallin like they swallowin Bacardi Them bu*ter-skin, probably gutted like kin Understand you 'bout to lose ya life f**kin with Deion Them country boys on the ride! With them big fat wheels on the side! Peep the vertical grills on the ride! And aw-awww-awww-awwwww! {Repeat Hook over this part} Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww! (Cam'ron) k**ah... Uh When it come to New York, I'm the man around town just trust me Down in the buggy, I'm that cat down in Kentucky Outta Bowling Green, heard you're holdin cream Mess wit a city slicker, we could mold a team We'll talk in codes, "smoke" 'll be the sand box Could be the hamhots, could be the lamb-chops we'll make wild mills, how ill I'll show you how that? feel, trade in that cow grill (Twista) Finna hit the south, get up out the city smokin on a fitty feelin pretty good with a hood chick gotta hit it lil bit now she call me daddy in the county full of wood call me country, tv's on the headrest even if there aint no seats in the back of me i'll play the dvd's for the cars and the streets and the people in back of me i'm chill, in a chevy with a grill with a black cadillac got the options if it aint got rims with the drop on the block with no locks than it's not mah concoction hurt 'em with the chrome, rollin on chrome rims it's the twenties this nappy roots and twista, if it aint dope, then don't call it country Them country boys on the ride! With them big fat wheels on the side! Peep the vertical grills on the ride! And aw-awww-awww-awwwww! Them country boys With them big fat wheels Peep the vertical grills And awwwwwwww!