Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Birds Fly South (Screwed), artist - Lil Keke. Album song Birds Fly South (Smoked & Chopped), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.09.2002
Record label: Avarice
Song language: English
Birds Fly South (Screwed) |
Southside, hot |
Westside, hot |
Off in the Dirty Dirty, you know we do it with these |
Poetic and Don Ke, known for getting that cheese |
I’m a calculator, calculate my feddy |
It be sixteen a bird, if your chips is ready |
Where your cash at nigga, cause I stay in the mix |
Nextdoor to Mexico, I get it thirteen six |
C.D.'s and L.P.'s, keep it legally true |
I’m a underground king, rest in peace to Screw |
You know my click on the creep, with no time to sleep |
You can hit me all night, got them thangs for cheap |
Where them real hustlas at, where them real ballas at |
Get your grind on playa, for real and live fat |
We legendary thugs, known for shooting slugs |
Sitting in front of clubs, on brand new Dubs |
The Escaladea, is looking good no doubt |
And one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South |
From the East to the West fa sho, that’s how we does it |
Southside for life, won’t you tell me how you love it |
You get it how you live, or you close your mouth |
And for the hustlas round the world, mayn the birds fly South |
From the East to the West fa sho, that’s how we does it |
Southside for life, won’t you tell me how you love it |
You get it how you live, or you close your mouth |
And there’s one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South |
I’m bout to touch down, headed to Oak-Town |
A fat sack of smoke, I’m ready to straight clown |
Leave the airport, headed straight to the spot |
And my nigga Mr. Changra, he be punching the clock |
I’m a certified G, giving all I got |
They go South for the winter, cause the tracks is hot |
I be laying low, in the studio writing |
Remember Lil' Ke, like they did the Titans |
It’s a earthquake, from California to Texas |
22's on that thang, don’t you touch that Lexus |
Gotta get it baby, cause you know I’m a savage |
And that Fed-Ex bout to drop off, a beautiful package |
We some independent masters, causing a disaster |
Get ghost on the FED’s, like my name was Casper |
Bastard fa sho, when I’m moving in route |
And there’s one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South |
Commission, Avarice, don’t really get us pissed |
Sell a quick hundred thousand, is first on the list |
Lay it down, cause we just some young Hoggs |
This for real dogs, we doing this for y’all |
I pop up the trunk, let em hear the funk |
Setting up the shop, got the neighborhood crunk |
We slab riding, and everything is thick |
From the quarters to the halves, to the whole damn brick |
Let’s get this money Pete, cause it don’t matter to me |
You can smoke a gang of hours, have a bag or tree |
We drop hit after hit, lick after lick |
All the real gangstas, gonna feel this shit |
They fly South |