| Where there’s money, all my dawgs, go and fetch that
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| Niggas robbin' in the hood, we don’t sweat that
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| Throw some some red dots up on your head and connect that (HAHH!)
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| I guess you in the right place, at the right time
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| And I been drinkin' I’m not really in my right mind
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| The wrong move’ll make a nigga grab the right nine
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| Knock your livin' daylights out, bitch, night time
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| Come off up them stacks, if you don’t give 'em then we gon' take 'em
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| Go and get 'em or we gon' chase him, go stick him and might erase him
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| Or turn him into a patient, any demon’s we gon' face 'em
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| Or see all the pigs and all that bacon, we gon' as-salamu alaykum
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| These pussy niggas only talkin' cause they got lips
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| Guess them choppers only bustin' cause them bitches got clips (YEEEAH~!)
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| Got them niggas bustin' off the motorcycle like Chips (haha)
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| Think I seen them round Bloods, so they mighta been Crips
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| All this rappin' ain’t no action, see I can’t respect that (nah)
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| Bout to ask him for that trap, and nigga I’mma check that (DAAAMN)
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| Hundred units in the living room, and you can bet that
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| I’m so high up in this bitch look like I got a jet pack (WHOO)
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| If you a real street nigga, won’t you tell me how it feel
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| So bought some 26s before you played her like Bill
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| So keep your name up out your mouth, gives a fuck bout how you feel
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| Cause in these motherfuckin' streets, +I Am Legend+ like Will
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| These niggas is sweeter than a sweet potato, softer than Play-Doh,
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| hope bitch nigga, lay low
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| A-Town by the way of Illinois and our blocks come together like Legos, they know
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| Who I am, I’m the man with a plane and a nigga with verses, blowin' a rapper to
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| pieces
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| Got a crew full of untamed dogs, and I’m thinkin' that I’m really bout to let
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| 'em off the leashes (WOOF)
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| I’m scratchin the surface, the nigga with the million dollar verses (WHOO)
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| These rappers are worthless and all I really wanna do is piss 'em off on purpose
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| I’m possessed, stick a needle in your back like a nigga doing voodoo curses
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| Givin' them a two piece with a biscuit and hell no I ain’t talkin 'bout
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| churches (OHHH)
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| Get nervous, get robbed of your valuables nigga like I’m snatching your purses
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| And I got a couple urges to clown on you niggas like a three ring circus
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| If you ain’t got no warrants, then you best to believe it’ll be no searches
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| So keep my name up out your mouth before I close your curtains |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Raised in the South , by - Young Jeezy. Song from the album The Poems of Jay Jenkins, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп