| Man f’real I love bein from the Dirty South mayne
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| It made me the G I am today, made me the hustler I am today
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| The grinder, the baller; |
| the gangster I am today mayne
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| Lot of people got opinions and, issues and, problems with
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| what they see comin from the South and who doin what in the South mayne
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| But I’ma tell you like this — FUCK YOU DAWG~! |
| This the South nigga
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| We gon’be here, we been here, and ain’t goin no motherfuckin where
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| Take it how you like it, hate it or love it hoe!
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| It’s that candy paint, 84's, belts and buckles, chrome and grill
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| Leather seats, stitch and tuck, TV screens and wooden wheels
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| Suede roof, neon lights, whole tire swang and bang
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| Tops drop, blades chop, fifth wheel just hangin mayne
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| White T’s, fitted hats, Jordans or the dickies (dickies)
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| That Swisher sweet, cigarillos filled up with the sticky (sticky)
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| The fifteens bam’n and the bass kick-kickin
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| Cadillac do’s slammin on them po'-po's tippin
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| We ain’t trippin just flippin these haters dip when they see us
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| (dip when they see us)
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| Cause they could never beat us best us or be us
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| I’m a G that’s a genius, best to just respect my thuggin mayne
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| It’s the South, ain’t nothin above it and that’s why I love it mayne!
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| You’re everything I knew! |
| (Ohh yeah)
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| Do what you want me to (I will doooooooo anything)
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| Get on my knees for you (ohhhhhhhhhh bab-bayyy)
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| What else is there to do (I don’t know, I don’t know, but I’ll cry)
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| Yeah, keepin it trilla baby; |
| Texas, P.A. |
| to H-Town
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| 3-oh-5 to Mi-Yayo… you know what it is Pray at night when you sellin white, got one ki’tryin to sell it twice
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| Yellow stones all in my shit, yellowbones all on my dick
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| Honeycomb I call my crib, money long that’s on my kids
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| I rock P to my Uncle Chad, UGK you can’t fuck wit that
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| Niggaz fake, they hate candy paint, and all the paper that your partner make
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| Shakin dice like a face of life, champagne just ain’t tastin right
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| Haterade they Gatorade, look at these seats they gator made
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| Friend or foe niggaz never know (know) never know when you fin’to blow
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| Dude scrapin the curb, dippin sippin some syrup
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| Fingers blistered twisted Swishers, Pimp died and it hurt
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| But I handle my issue, I got several pistols
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| that won’t whistle, missles knockin gristle from fatty tissue
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| Mississippi’s my home, 'til I’m die and I’m gone
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| I know I put it on my back, held that bitch up alone
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| With no label b-backin, pride split into fractions
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| I hit the ocean on peggy bustin back at the crackin
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| And y’all scared (y'all scared)
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| Lets talk about Pimp C, Bun B, Eightball, MJG
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| Big Boi, Dre 3000, Scarface, Willie D
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| T.I.P, Young Jeezy, Birdman, Lil Weezy
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| Trick Daddy, Young Buck, SoSoDef, Jermaine Depri
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| J Prince, Rap-A-Lot, Juicy J, DJ Paul
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| Slim Thug, Lil’Keke, Chamillionare, Paul Wall
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| We all different but we all rep the same thang
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| God first, family then money in the South mayne
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| They call me PEEIMP TYTE~! |
| MJG
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| The Dirty South, is everything I want
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| Everything I need, everything I’m longin for
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| when I’m outta town gotta get home, just for
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| Everything that I been raised to love, the wisdom my grandmomma gave to us Racial profilin, police harassment regular days to us You say door, we say do’you say four, we say fo'
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| You say whore, we say hoe; |
| you want more, but we want mo'
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| What else is there left for me to do?
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| This the dedication from me to you
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| The South, I know you gonna see, me through
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| So until I die I wanna be, wit’chu
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| You’re everything |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song You're Everything , by - Bun B. Song from the album Bun B Greatest Hits, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп