Tom: D minor
Verse 1
What's up whodie?
This Juvenile Nino,
Cash Money Millionaire
Doin this here
My boys from the ATL, Jim Crow
And we all should say to all you playa-
hatin muthafuckas
Why'all better respect the South
We on a come- up, nigga
G
And we did this shit for the
Am
The hot boys, the three- time losers,
the drug- abusers
G
F
I don't give a fuck what you do, nigga
Verse 2
F
It be them Flaw Boyz, ????
Thinkin we was country on
G
We like Kane in the Eighties, we RAW, boy
F
Am
Fuck around and make me come up in your jaw,
boy
Verse 3
Am
[ VERSE 1: Mr. Mo ] I say no more
F
A nigga never went to jail cause I
Am
ain't never got caught
Now see it ain't my fault your boys
G
F
sketched in chalk
Am
???? shoulda learned the
game that you bark
See some niggas, they make me mad
G
These hoes, they got it bad
F
Am
They ain't recognize, do the math
And you will see they all bitch- made,
G
lemonade
F
Grown as hell but they actin
like they 8th grade
Am
F
You need to play with a full deck
F
break a bitch an d all I want is my check
F
Am
is your girlfriend next?
To get spiced up late night,
(Nigga, whatever you like)
Am
[ VERSE 2: Cutty Cartel ] On point
Verse 4
Am
G
like they droppin a beat,
let's be discrete
F
About these bullshit stories
Am
you hear up in the street
I'm down to my last sheet,
Me, he and even she
G
F
Whoever who, no debate, I can't wait
Am
On shortie, to see what they do
G
When they lose it all and ball, no flaw
F
Am
While you lickin all off on her bra
We lickin for the cheese
With the safe unlocked,
Am
And it's some foolish- ass spot,
F
Not knowin that his last breath
has been consumed
Am
G
He done ballin
Interlude 1
F
Am
G
F
Verse 5
G
F
Am
[VERSE
G
F
G
Ha- ha- ha (Yo, who the fuck
Am
The nigga that gives a damn
Verse 6
'bout a be
Am
Roaddogs run the streets,
That's what we ride in,
F
Preacher daughters freakin me,
Am
so- called players envy me
Hennessy has the tendency to
F
Can't whup my ass and all the
Am
alcohol said you can do it
But you clueless thinkin that
drink make you ruthless
Now you're toothless runnin
around town lookin stupid
Cause cupid got your heart,
gave your bitch a credit card
F
But she still fuck around with
Am
them players on boulevard
I don't care how hard the sound
F
Am
You don't want nann ?? Shawty Pimp,
not one second
Huh? Not one second,
F
Now praise the Lord for these
Verse 7
F
[ VERSE 4: Juvenile ] Direct your shit at
Juvenile cause
I'm the nigga that you hate
Am
F
Am
Don't try to throw a brick from a distance,
then hide your faces
F
See, the places that I been
F
Unless I took you under my wing
Am
and I put you in the game
Ever since I been walkin on
F
Bitches been joining forces
G
But I'm here to spoil the
Am
??? stop ??? whores from playin
F
Am
F
Am
G
Over no, you must be crazy, ha, is ya?
Am
F
Boy, listen to me when I'm
Am
talkin before I get witcha
F
Whip ya, rip your little dreams apart
Take that same rhyme you bought it
Am
from me and then let it spark
G
Depart before your people talkin
seekin vengeance
F
That's how I'ma handle business,
Am
fuck what's the consequences
Hittin your residence with Russi
F
Your neighbors hollerin, run,
Am
trippin and call for the President
Interlude 2
Am
G
F
Am
G
F
Am
Verse 8
G
F
Am
[ CHORUS
F
Am
G
Boy,
F
Am
G
we
F
Am
G
F
Am
be
G
F
Am
serious round this shit, dirty
with the South
Verse 9
[ Juvenile ]
Am
Am
The HB's done hooked up with them Jim Crows,
F
And guess what, we ain't no hoes,
G
CMR, ATL there's no to morrow, nigga
My nigga be
G
- 32
My nigga B.G. is here
Am
My nigga Lil Wayne, my nigga Lil Turk
Fuck it, nigga
F
Am
Down South
Outro 1
(Down South)
Am
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O que você achou da música?
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