CHORUS:. (Nelly). It's a Midwest thang y'all. And ain't got a clue. (Ain't got a clue). Why my Cutlass blue. And I got them thangs. On that motherfucker too. It's a Midwest Swang y'all. Ain't gotta trip. (Ain't gotta trip). While we swing and dip. (Ay ay ay ay ay). 'Cause we do big thangs. On the motherfuckin' hip. What you think we live on a farm?. Nigga be for real. We got Benz's Rovers' and Jag's. Hummer's and Deville's. Got a green S Class. Ain't broke the do' seal. Sh*t ain't been the same. Since I signed Fo' Reel. This sh*t got ill when I hit 4 mil. Five and countin' dirty six at will. Did seven on the slide 8 worldwide. I'll be on my third Bentley. By the time I'm at 9. I hear 'em cryin'. "You gon' sell out". Ya damn right. I done sold out before. And re-caught the same night. Straight hopped the next flight. Too Icey for sunlight. Dunkin' without Sprite. Yeah you heard me dirty. I'm from the Show-Me State. Show me seven I'll show you eight. Karats in one bling. Heavily starched jeans. Representin' St. Louis. Everytime I breathe. In the city I touch down. And I bob and weave ay. Repeat chorus. (Murphy Lee:). I sport my beeper on my boots. That's why I be a buzz when I kick. Maybe it's on my lips. It's chaos when I spit. Quarter man quarter. Schoolboy half Lunatic. Quarter rubber quarter dick. Other half in yo chick. Keep a quarter of some sh*t. I'm the Pookey of the backyard. All colors and all types like a junkyard. High young boy with high young ways. 'Cause I connect three blunts. And be high for three days. You can tell by the way I walk. I ain't from 'round hurr (here). Probably couldn't tell 'cause. I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere). I got a old-school Cutlass. With a hole in the urr (air). TV's urrwhurr (everywhere). Wood grain to sturr (stare). I don't curr (care). Hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair). To the half in them Airforce 1's. Give me two purr (pair) ugh. I'm from the Lou and. What I do is a Lou thang. One rapper two rings. And three chains. (Kyjuan). Nothing but some ole country boys. That ride V12 horses. Saddle up and put. Spurs on my Airforce's. Back porches made for. Hide and go seek. We got space out here. We can ride and cheif. Ain't gotta worry 'bout. Nobody approachin' us. By the time they catchin' up. We smoked it up. And my eyes be red. My lips a lil' dark. St. Louis sportin' the Rams. Cards and lil' Arch. My dirty's love to spark. And love to sparkle. Love homies Vokal coats. With matchin' car do's (doors). We racin' down sneakers. See how fast a car go. Granny be like "Ay ya ya". Like Ricky Ricardo. I know you wanna know. Why we do what we do. You cats ain't got a clue. Why the Cutlass blue. Brand new 22's on new UP's. With one two three. Four five TV's. Repeat chorus. (Big Lee A.K.A. Ali:). I'm sittin' on the front porch. Writin' a hood rhyme. Waitin' on my connect. To deliver that good line. Wish I would find. One seed in my weed. Sticks and shit. If I do somebody bleed. Pull right here. Eight pounds of Chinamen. Two stank bitches. Some blunts and Heineken. Hidin' in the back with the po' po'. Kicked in my do'do'. Man they some ho' hooo's. They put the gun to my earr. You know the Lord don't fear. Nann nigga nann hoe. Let's keep that bullshit clearr. They had me face. Down in the skreet (street). Errbody (everybody). Watchin' thinkin' I'mma pull the heat. And leave the D-tects with. A leak in the skreet (street). And that pussy ass nigga. That set me up my peeps. Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD. Beat the K fuck coke. Now I'm back on my. Granny poche (porch) hustlin'.