Outkast - West Savannah Lyrics
[big boi]February 1st, 1975 it happenedWas born in west savannah way before I started rappinMy mamma had a nigga at the age of fifteenMy daddy was sellin that sack, now hes gots responsibilitiesStayed at me grannys while me mammy was at workAnd she couldnt watch my every move so shit I started servinAround frazier home, down in the west side projectsChangin over foodstamps, and hittin a lick was next seeIm just a playa like that, my jeans was sharply creasedI got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed eastSo flyin, or floatin, a brougham is what Im sportinSade is in my tape deck, Im movin in slow motion boiSo meet me deep in the streets thats where I learned the capersUs lickin blunts, lickin leaves, rollin reefer papersIm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucketBut the niggaz around the ave. and the hoes, they love meThey wanna be me and my family tooBecause the money that I make be puttin cable off in every roomSo follow the beans, follow my lead through the nooks and cranniesIts everyday life off in my hood so come and holla at meBut go head on, with that foolishness *****Let me get lovely with my swerve because Im true to this shitAnd if you comin with eight dollars, you shit out of luckBecause the west side aint takin no shorts on the dimeSo fire it upChorus:Now now now nine in my hand, ounce in my crotchDiggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!(like that now, like this, and it dont quit, and it dont stop)Nine in my hand, oune in my crotchDiggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!(and it dont stop, and it dont quit, its like that and ah)See, niggaz in the south wear gold teeth and gold chainsBeen doin it for years, so these niggaz aint gone changeThey comin around the ghetto so you might call em soulBeen wearin furry kangols, so that shit is oldYou might slang a rock or two just to pay the rentFive dollars for a table dance so now your moneys spentYou listen to that booty shake music in your trunkAs long as theres that tic tic followed by that bumpIm down to stick a hoe if she got a g-strangCause the niggaz in the pointe aint changed, mainYou might call us country, but wes only southernAnd I dont give a *****, p-funk spot to spark anotherChorus w/ variations (repeat to end)
