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    Youngbloodz / Lyrics

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    "Down Heya (In The South)" Lyrics

    Youngbloodz

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    Duration:00:04:30
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    Lyrics

    And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets
    To the two door Capri, crunk out with the beat
    We shakin' hoes off, cut em' up like a slab
    Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab

    If 5 on 2, shit its all good, we ride through the hood
    In the Delta 88' with that Georgia license plate These niggas, don't know
    They don't even wanna show no love to a nigga,
    like me, so I just stay On the grind,
    stay down for mine tryin' to get mine in daily

    Holla' at me like you know your foe, chiefin' on that green
    Never snort a lot of coke, stayed down with the home team
    Know what I mean, some shit, have a nigga, stressed out
    Make him small fast

    Bout' 175 will quit to open that cannon and woop your ass
    But ya' wait, get a bat face on the one-time while these hoes
    Choose on the Attic Crew, my girl already been chose
    These stankin' bitches get your boy caught up in that fuck shit
    I know they suckin dick, but they thanking the game I spit

    I put they ass in a rap and ride out on them hoes
    Get wit' my slick part now, then hit the studio
    Now see I jumps up, without a doubt
    Not a question being asked as you dash, with no way out

    Through the whirl-wind I spin, intruders, we break em' in
    Atlanta Georgia, we comin' for ya' with 50 men
    In sets of 10, no sippin' gin, we steppin' in its the Attic Crew
    No flaw within, we them Youngbloodz wit' plenty kin
    No ifs, no ands, no buts, no grins

    We after you, so what you do is count to three then click your shoes
    Then out the door, back to your hoe, down on the low
    Straight, toe to toe, 'cause J-Bo is who I be, won't fuck with you
    Don't fuck with me, so can't you see through the enemies

    Where be all you can fuckin' be, stay sucker free
    But first get some nuts before you fuck around and bite the dust
    Now nigga what, so what you got now if you ride out on them cruts, Hook

    And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets
    To the two door Capri, crunk out with the beat
    We shakin' hoes off, cut em' up like a slab
    Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab

    And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets
    To the two door Capri, crunk out with the beat
    We shakin' hoes off, cut em' up like a slab
    Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab

    A day late and a dolla' short on the cat walk, windin'
    Tryin' to get meat, 22 tryin' to see 23, Shawty, three U double T's
    What it ain't gonna be, what it is over years I been scratchin'
    And scrapin' still ain't came up with nothin'

    Let everybody get they time to shine still waitin' on mine
    In the meantime tryin' to find a loophole
    God knows where the next one, for dead
    Got bust in the neck, nigga cryin', but the grind don't stop

    Like time don't stop, like a nigga who drop
    Casket, cover it up and ride out, ain't got nothin' to be smilin' bout'
    Only bit fake chasers, I'm tryin' to waste
    Gotta keep on stackin', gotta keep on packin', slackin' gonna get me

    Hemmed up, posted up in the store with the blow, don't show no flow
    As long as though, see hit the gas flow
    Gotta play it smart, gotta take it to the heart
    Fuckin' around, gonna get you fucked up, 4:30, the hill, law gone

    Always underestimated, great don't gives a fuck, don't make mistakes
    Shake em' off gonna get it crunk before this thang get too late
    Hold up, wait, my homeboys straight
    Don't make me go upside your head
    Drag your ass across the club, heard what I fuckin' said

    We ain't scared, prepared to take this thang to the streets
    Caprice and Fleetwood ride good Vouges with the beat
    You might not understand a damn thang that I speak
    I'm slizzard as hell, might stomp your punk ass to sleep

    And when this thang get crunk, I pack it up and take it to the lab
    Hit that gentlemens club and grab a couple of hoes off on the ass
    Laugh if you will, thank its funny but it ain't what
    the fuck you gonna do When they hit you, stick you for your bank

    From the freeze-tag to the Fleetwoods, from the two door to the four door
    Who got the leather, who got the cloth, who got the Vougues
    With all the hoes, who got the gold, who got that grain
    Who got the green, who got the chains, who got the bitch
    I got the Fleetwood, girls most likely to complain

    See somethings can't be explained, how we really do this man
    Hit the lab, make it talk, now you here me once again
    Have you jumpin' and shakin', like you off in that blue flame
    Whats really going on holmes, can you please tell me man

    And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets
    To the two door Capri, crunk out with the beat
    We shakin' hoes off, cut em' up like a slab
    Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab

    And thats how we keep it crunk, from the club to the streets
    To the two door Capri, crunk out with the beat
    We shakin' hoes off, cut em' up like a slab
    Then hit the studio and take it back to the lab
    This song was submitted on December 20th, 2004 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Harold M. Willis, Jeffrey Ray Grigsby, Sean Paul Joseph, Villus D. Hose, William Andrew Holmes.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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