Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Where Da South At?, artist - Lil Keke. Date of issue: 11.02.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Where Da South At? |
| So put your money, where your mouth at |
| If it’s cheddar and chips, then we about that |
| Fraud off in the game, baby I doubt that |
| There go the East and the West, (now where the South at nigga) |
| I wear platinum on the chest, cause I just can’t rest |
| C.M.G. |
| and BBS, nationwide success |
| C-Note the big shot, and Lil' Keke the Don |
| We been Houston trend setting, baby since day one |
| Start over and do it again, it don’t matter to me |
| Rest in peace to DJ Screw, from the S.U.C |
| It’s the year 2−1, we still don’t bar none |
| Fade 'em all when we ball, keep the game on the run |
| We put the lick down, multiplied the ends |
| Then put the split down, Southsi' for li' |
| We from the Southside nigga, we posted at the bar |
| Me and Ke' the 'gar, we be shining like a star |
| Them deuces on the car, cold drank mixed with bar |
| Boys recognize who we are, cause we coming with that hard |
| I wonder which ride, we gon flip this year |
| 2002 Escalade, yes we skipped the year |
| About to jump through the Kappa, the young pro rapper |
| Three or four girls in my car, a true macker |
| The young paper stacker, equipped with game |
| Nigga welcome to the section, where we hog the lane |
| So put your money, where your mouth at |
| Collecting chips and buying new whips, yeah I’m about that |
| This is hardcore, thug life |
| Tattoos and paying dues, and getting feddy every night |
| Hoes sweating me, niggas betting me |
| That the laws behind my Lam', think they could catch me |
| I think not, I’ma mash to the spot |
| Turning corners hitting blocks, got the sturning wheel hot |
| Alright catch a flight, hot-lanta next night |
| Looking for some fire green, the price is right |
| Come on they say the South, bout to fall off |
| It’s the fourth quarter nigga, but the game ain’t called off |
| We ain’t stopping, till the tapes is hauled off |
| Even if it take the Glock nine, and the sawed off |
| For real, it ain’t no telling where the South at |
| Quit bumping your gums, and put your money your mouth at |
| I guess we blowed up, like you thought we wasn’t |
| See the double R, rap star on buttons |
| Shining kinda dim, northstar like nothing |
| And I’m stomping on the snitches, that be hating and fronting |
| From the Clover to the Wood, nigga it’s all good |
| At the dome out in Miami Florida, it’s all hood |
| Recognize homeboy, we be South for life |
| And my boys’ll get more, from lifting so much ice |
| Home of the piece and chain, diamond teeth and thangs |
| Home of the pinky rings, and the raw cocaine |
| These niggas swanging elbows, and acting all wild |
| While I’m trying to win a Grammy, like I’m Destiny’s Child |
| Smoking black and mild, and getting crunk on stage |
| Fuck in the after Source, nigga we front page |
| See me backstage, strapped with a gauge |
| Taking rap to a whole 'nother phaze, dog I’m any ways |