Lyrics for Awnaw – modified-squeaky clean by Nappy Roots :
Paroles de la chanson Awnaw (modified-Squeaky Clean) :
Yo, yeah, this is the Rocafella remix

Killer-Cam, Nappy Roots, y’all ready?

Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy

Y’all done up and done it

Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy

Y’all done up and done it

Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy

Y’all done up and done it

Ah, y’all done up and done it

Man y’all done up and done it

[Fish Scales]

My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hooks

You hear me flippin thru my pages out my favorite notebooks

The microphone was in the closet, no headphones, we lost it

n*ggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin over the faucets

No AC, Tez’ll break a sweat just tryin to make beats

E-Dubz was being a hustler

Always flirtin with all his customers, and flat broke

Nappy smokin blacks out on the back po’ch

I’m thinkin I got everything a country boy could ask for

[Big V]

Now what we do to get here? (say that boy)

Lay it down and bring it to ya raw (say that boy)

Hey now we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for

Hated for for the cussin, but the hatred it made us cuss more

Held on, but it was hard, stepped up, took charge

Ran through what we scared of, but what was we afraid for?

Look at what we made of, hard times done made us

Being here is alright, but must believe we want more!

[Jazze Pha]

Them country boys on the rise

With them big fat wheels on the side

Peep them vertical grills on the ride

And awww-aw-aww-aw

Them country boys

With them big fat wheels

Peep the vertical grills

And awwwww

[Skinny DeVille]

My yegga, we hogwild, bet that from that roota to that toota file

Hell naw, them country boys ain’t headed south for six miles

Kentucky mud, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred spokes

Skullied on that front porch, plus you know they got dro

Seventy-nine coupe DeVille vertical Caddy grill

Interstate 65 heading down to Cashville

Glass filled, to the tippy top, back seat Benz

Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints

A damn shame, gotta grind anything and everything

Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane

A long time, a gravel road, to cash and fame and sold my soul

To Hell and back, and back and forth, with same jeans and nappy ‘fro

[R. Prophit]

I might, hop off the Harley, smoke mine like Bob Marley

Block parties with shawties, wallin like they swallowin Bacardi

Them butter-skin, Prophit gutter like kin

Understand you ’bout to lose ya life f*ckin with them

[Jazze Pha]

Them country boys on the rise

With them big fat wheels on the side

Peep them vertical grills on the ride

And awww-aw-aww-aw

Them country boys

With them big fat wheels

Peep the vertical grills

And awwwww

[Cam’Ron]

Killer, uh, when it come to New York

I’m the man around town, just trust me

Down in the buggy, I that cat down in Kentucky

Outta Bowling Green, heard ya holding cream

Mess with a city slicker, we could mould the team

We’ll talk in code, smoker be the sandbox

Could be the hamhots, or be the lamb chops

We’ll make wild mills, how ill

I’ll show you how that denial feel, trade in that cow grill

[Twista]

Finna head south, get up out the city

Smokin’ on a fifty, feelin’ pretty good

With a hood chick, gotta hit a little bit

Now she call me daddy in a caddy full of wood

Call me country, TV’s on the headrest

Even if there ain’t no seats in the back of me

I play the DVD’s, for the cars on the streets

And the people in back of me

I’m trailin’, a chevy with a grill or the black cadillac, got the option

If it ain’t got rims when the drop on the block with no locks than it’s not my concoction

Hurt ’em with the chrome, rollin’ on chrome rims it’s the twenties

This Nappy Roots and Twista, if it ain’t dope then don’t call it country

[Jazze Pha]

Them country boys on the rise!

With them big fat wheels on the side!

Peep the vertical grills on the ride!

And aw-awww-awww-awwwww!

Them country boys

With them big fat wheels

Peep the vertical grills

And awwwwwwww!