Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Atl 2 Stl , by - Rasheeda. Release date: 31.12.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Atl 2 Stl |
| ATL to STL, on them things and crunk as hell |
| Your system blast, then let it bump |
| Spark the L and raise it up |
| Fifteens in my shit, you know it’s gon' bump |
| Nelly ridin shotgun, nigga, pass the blunt |
| We into what-ever, and keepin it crunk |
| Got twenty-inch BB’s on my white Benz truck |
| Aw shit, we done did it again |
| From ATL to the new, but still breakin 'em in |
| Playin to win, fire hot, burnin ya skin |
| Platinum hit number two, y’all made me do it again |
| This Rasheeda, I’m ridin niggas through the dirty |
| From Old ??? |
| to Cambleton flippin birdies |
| Bendin and swervin, I got this muthafucka turnin |
| Threw up the double R, heard the sirens, kept it burnin |
| (Hook-Rasheeda & Nelly) |
| ATL to STL (we ridin) |
| On them things and crunk as hell (we ridin) |
| Your system blast then let it bump (we ridin) |
| Spark the L and raise it up (we ridin) |
| (Nelly) |
| I’m 'bout to pull up in the ATL, eighteen inches and five screens |
| Old folks on the side and they reachin for Visine |
| Five bitches right behind me, more flashin than high beams |
| Like, (Nelly, where you goin, can I go?), by all means |
| Keep the door open, drivin the ave, mami get in |
| Matter fact, don’t ya come without, whoo, bringin ya friends |
| One shotgun, three in the back, one on my lap |
| What’s the outcome, we in the sack like Warren Sapp |
| Open ya mouth hun, «we don’t do that», don’t give me that |
| Why ya tongue done, say «aaaaahh», fuck it, that’s what I thought |
| I was peepin that since the first time I saw ya |
| Timed ya walk from therr (there) to the time I parked |
| So keep ya one eye open for the haters that gawk |
| But still thugged out, candy coated and thugged out |
| Real stud guy, blink, now the guns out |
| I’m a show you what that A-T-S-T-L is about, dirty |
| (Hook) |
| (Rasheeda) |
| I love wood grain and, tinted, painted, and dusted out |
| Threw on some new shoes, drop the top and skated out |
| Then I hit the block, non stop, numero uno |
| Iced up, platinum bitch, breakin niggas to the zero |
| Call me the hero, better yet, the lieutinent |
| Takin charge of the game, best believe I’m gon' win it |
| See, it ain’t no thing for me to put it down |
| You jumpin out your draws for this bitch from down south |
| Now put 'em up, and throw your hands in the air |
| Now tip the cup, like you just don’t care |
| Stepped in the club, with my niggas from the D-Low |
| We keep this thing crunk and droppin bows on them hizzoes |
| (Hook) |