Hmm, I’m going down down baby, yo street in a Range Rover Street Sweeper. Baby, cocked and ready to let it go. Shimmy Shimmy cocoa wha, listen to it now. Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now.
You can find me in St. Louis, rolling on dubs. Smoking dubs in clubs, blowing up like cocoa puff. Sipping Bud, getting perved and getting dubbed. Daps and hugs, mean mugs and shoulder shrugs. And it’s all because I’ve accumulated enough stretch just to navigate it. Fully decorated on chrome and candy painted, fans fainted while I’m entertaining. Wild, ain’t it? How me and mugs, I hang with Hannibal Lector. So feel me when I bring it, sing it loud. I’m from the Loop and I’m proud. Run a mile for the cause, I’m righteous above the law. Player, my style’s raw. I’m born to Mack like Todd Shaw. Forget the fame and the glamour, give me D’s with a rubber hammer. My grammar is ebonics, gin tonic and chronic. F*** bionic, it’s ironic. Slamming n*****s like Onyx, Lunatics ’til the day I die. I run more game than the Bulls and Sonics.
Chorus 2X: Who say pretty boys can’t be wild n*****s? Loud n*****s, O.
K. Corral foul individuals, running into the club and causing chaos. Ask me again and it’s going down. Come to the circus and watch me perform. What are you giving when I’m around? People frown and talk sh*t when I leave town. Can you come out to play now? I’m ready to cut you up any day now. Follow my rules and you’ll stay high. Can I answer your third question? Say hi to my friends in prison. From St. Louis to Memphis, from Texas to Indiana, Chi-Town K.C.
Motown to Alabama, L-A, New York Yankee niggas to Hotlanta, Louisiana. All my niggas with Country Grammar, smoking blunts in Savannah. Blow thirty mill like I’m Hammer.
Chorus 2X (Nelly): Let’s show these cats how to make these millions, so you niggas quit acting silly, mon. My kid quicker than Billy, mon. Talking really and I need it, mon. Foes I keep filly, mon. Especially off Remi, mon. Keys to my Beemer, mon. Holla at Beenie Man, see me, mon. Chiefin rollin deeper than any mon, through Jennings mon. Through U-City back up to Kingsland, with nice niggas. Sheist niggas who snatch your life, trife niggas who produce and sell the same beat twice, nig*a, ice nig*a. All over close to never sober. From broke to having dough, ’cause my price Range is Rover. Now I’m knockin like Jehovah. Let me in now, let me in now. Bill Gates, Donald Trump, let me in, we spin now. I got money to lend my friends now, we in now. Candy Benz, Kenwood and 10s now (Whoo!). Fucking lesbian twins now. Seeing now, through the pen I make my ends now.
Bibliography: A website.
