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CROOKED LETTAZ |
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Translated title:
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Crooked Lettaz - South's On My Mind |
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- Crooked Lettaz Lyrics
- South's On My Mind Lyrics
 GET Crooked Lettaz - South's On My Mind ringtones  (Jack town David Banner Gamma Ray Productions boy) (Stew pot stow aways) [Chorus] Been a long time the South stays on my mind I'm a grown man and everything is fine [David Banner] Nobody gives a damn about my place of o rigin Jacktown rounds of empty shells left on the ground Still smokin I'm hopin to give the kids something back Instead of wild ass stories about sellin vials of crack Or bitches and cars, but my state left scars On my man hood, while y'all be screamin that it's all good When it ain't never been, most kids move to Chicago And those that didn't were left hollow Wit low self-esteem but it seems that all my dreams got crushed But y'all niggas kept it on the hush So why y'all frontin on the South, come and get some Ask your scared-ass parents where you from, you crumb Chorus 2x [Kamikaze] My God, these lyrics hot, you're gonna need sunblock My verbal's cocked wit ammunition For you shiesty A&R's who be dissin You missin, the Southern fried cookin, who you lookin at? Bustin lyrics from the soundproof straight to DAT In fact, I'm sick of how you brothers react My demo says Mississippi but I ain't speakin 'bout no gats But my raps, are laced wit homicidal tendencies A Menace like Dennis be, bustin rhymes from here to Tennesse [David Banner] Cops rang, my man he done bled to death And the ambulance done came and left I'm by myself, with your traces And my yard you know it's hard, mentally-scarred Brain-barred little cousin Joe, I done seen the whole thing I can't seem to get my hands clean Done washed em twelve times in a row, twelve rhymes is spoke Twelve dimes but it doesn't ease the pain Suggestion, (ah, excuse me Mr. Crump can we ask you some questions) Don't ask me no questions Chorus 2x [Kamikaze] Now shortly, it be that portly MC from the M-G-T North Jackson, Mississippi where them brainiacs be Ain't no hustlers, no gangstas, no slangers an' thugs The only test for your vest will be verbal slugs And mean mugs get shrugged out quick, it ain't no fightin Just down home receitin, and some dope lyric writin Tighten your skills, before you cross the border into hell It's that mack, know your state where them stow-aways dwell Chorus 4x -outro- *shout outs and hollering for about 20 seconds* [David Banner] Check this out right here, this is David Banner Like to end this song by saying all praises is due to God God first, yaknowimsayin, music second Yo peace out to my little god-son Lil' Ju Peace due to Earl B. Washington, Phinga Print's father |
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