Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song From the South , by - Boss. Release date: 02.10.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
From the South |
| Hold up a minute, I’m the King of the Ghetto |
| Holding the rap game, like wood grain can’t let go |
| You niggas’ll never see me, I’m on another level |
| Stay ready to dig a grave, keep a gun and a shovel |
| And pouring gas too, if there evidence |
| Saw me in the rear view, now you wonder where I went |
| I’mma get you if I owe ya, visit ya residence |
| Lay the merk game down, and then I’mma hit the fence |
| Better keep my mouth closed, so they can’t see the shining |
| They think it was Z-Ro, cause all they seen was diamonds |
| I’m cold as a deep freeze, with bags of ice in it |
| My .357 pretty, but ain’t nothing nice in it |
| Too many bitches, and not enough rubbers |
| Got so many, all my real niggas under the gutter |
| Watch a nigga full of life, light close like shutters |
| God damn, staying healthy is hard as a mo’fucker |
| I got diamonds all in my mouth, in my grill and in my jaws |
| Platinum teeth and princess cuts, my mouth is similar to a disco ball |
| I’m Paul Wall my smile is blinding, my ice is shining like a chandelier |
| I tend to brush my teeth with Windex, just so the glass house mouth shine clear |
| I got mo' karats than vegetable soup, I’m a Texas icon, a People’s Champ |
| Put on your shades when I commence to approach, my mouth is illuminating like a |
| lamp |
| It got gold grills and platinum and ice, cause that’s how it is in the Lone |
| Star State |
| With a cup full of barre in a candy car, and we jamming on a Robert Davis Grey |
| Tape |
| Ever since 1999, I had diamonds in my grill |
| You just rappin, that ain’t platinum, homie you need to chill |
| Cause you embarrassing Texas, nigga you ain’t trill |
| Nigga you been on my dick, way befo' you got your deal |
| These rappers finally get some fame, and think they got it locked |
| After your album flop, nigga you gon be on Koch |
| My gear clean, from my ear rings to my pinky ring |
| If you ain’t spend thirty, boy tuck in your piece and chain (Southside) |
| Blucka-blucka-blucka, that’s how my gun go |
| If I’m looking agitated, bitch you better run ho |
| I use to do the baguettes, but now I’m VS-1's though |
| Princess cuts straight up and down, Johnny done those |
| I got loud ice, just like Paul Wall |
| Shining down South, brighter than all y’all |
| When it’s time to get your jewelry done who do y’all call |
| Cause you fellas ain’t shining at all, check me out |
| On the first and fifteenth, I’m some’ing like a pimp |
| Even with a suspended license, still finna flip |
| Ain’t no limit to this cash, ain’t nothing I can’t get |
| 5 deuce Hoova Cuz ain’t nothing like a Crip |
| Ride with a Revolve', I don’t fuck with clips |
| These roach ass niggas, trying to make me bust my chips |
| But I’m not a bank, I don’t even trust my bitch |
| I’m from the South, and I got diamonds in my mouth |