Lyrics This Goes Out - Murphy Lee, Nelly, Roscoe

This Goes Out

Uh, Yeah
Ohh-Ohh
What we have herre?
Uh, Yeah
Ooohh
Uh, Yeah
Ooohh
This goes out to my Midwest crew
Now hold ya M-Dub in the airr if ya feel me Fuck em all day, fuck em all night
Candy paint on d’s and fo’s
Yo, Ayyo I eat, sleep, shit, rap
Hip-Hop, kid and nap
Snoop Dogg 'Lac wit the diamond in the back
I rep it like a mayor mayn
Summin like a playa mayn
St. Louis cookin’and I’m Murphy Lee the killer mayn
Hunt someone and lick em, make em salaam
Praise the Lord or say peace to God
I’m just a Skool Boy, call me Mr. Do-What-You-Do-Fool
Claim where you from or we will claim where you move to Home is where you make it, eat a meal and get naked
You could, walk in yo drawers and nobody could say shit
I got STL tatted on my right arm, some of em saw em I aint dyin'but yo I'm definitely fight for em And keep it tight for em, and keep it hype for em And buy at the bar whatever gon keep the night
goin
Do what you do and you do it, just do it big
And if you live to get it then you gon get it how you live cuz.
This goes out to my West Coast crew
Now hold ya Dub up in the airr if ya feel me Fuck em all day, fuck em all night
Hit the switch on yo six fo’s
Naps, rock, skit
West Coast style t-shirt, khaki lack
Swerve in the Cadillac
Young Roscoe, the black Burt Bacharach
serve the sacks, flippin skirts like acrobats
And I dip wit you nigga, I take you on a ride
Through that place known worldwide
It’s the Westside.
Chronic, Daytons, switches, dubs
Cap turned to the back wit skirts at the Caddy shack
Los Angeles where they sag to the mud
Drop the back let it drag, du rags full of thugs
Ya hard to the back, car full of «blat»
Why A’s decay, we way hard ok?
I rock a 5 double O wit the bubble nose
Stop, drop the top I holla at a couple hoes
Fo sho they wanna roll wit the Philly fanatic
Runnin’the radio in Cali cuz I stay in the traffic
This goes out to my East Coast crew
Now hold ya E’s up in the airr if ya feel me Fuck em all day, fuck em all night
Rock ya hoodies and Timbo’s
Yo, Yo, step in the party like.
Sippin’on Bacardi like.
I hooked up wit the 'Tics they like…
It’s gettin’frisky for me Girls, they strippin for me Lil’Jon you wit us homey?
(Okay)
I gettin brain and, pimpin’I cant complainin'
It’s crazy I can’t explain it, it’s the Derrty Entertainment
Man, I like to stop and go, she like to mop and glow
Lovin’this track cuz we gonna rock and roll
I huff and puff until my indo’s gone
So I, get to stompin’wit my Timbo’s on We might be floppin’homey, we all critic
Welcome to Harlem World A.K.
New York City
We forever runnin’round, here forever creepin'
Up all night cuz homey we aint never sleepin'
I came to do this wit my derrty Murphy
Y’all niggas betta obey, cuz you can get it.
(Okay)
This goes out to my Dirty South crew
Now hold ya S up in the airr if ya feel me Fuck em all day, fuck em all night
If ya tempted to throw them bows
Get yo hands up bitch
Throw you goddamn click up —
We gon drink a fifth of hen
And we gon rock it to this bitch —
We represent that Dirty
We aint expectin’no shit —
We wild out in the club
Same click we don’t give a fuck —
Lil’Weezy, fuckin’Baby, 5'4"fo'
4−5 make a nigga go.
(Ooooh)
I’m a fly young nigga, ho South cold’s great
Stay low when get cake, oh.
Yeah, me no play we can take it outside
Never met a nigga take myself pride
It’s Wizzy Wizzle, Southside guy
Outside fly, gutta gutta in the South, wild 5
I represent that Money
I aint scared to throw my click up Soon as I throw it high up, holla back, Squire
I’m screwed up I drive slow not fast
Birdman Jr. I got stones not cash, bitch
I’m from the swamp I smoke dro not grass
P.O.C.
rolled on my hands, got a 90 degree fo’in my pants
Give you this respect
I’m still mackin', you can smell the Pimp Juice on my breath
Get yo hands up bitch
Throw you goddamn click up —
We gon drink a fifth of hen
And we gon rock it to this bitch —
We represent that Dirty
We aint expectin’no shit —
We wild out in the club
Same click we don’t give a fuck —