St. Lunatics - Midwest Swing lyrics

rate me

It's a Midwest thang y'all

And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue)

Why my Cutlass blue

And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too

It's a Midwest Swang y'all

Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip)

While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay)

Cuz we do big thangs

On the motherfuckin' hip

What you think, we live on a farm? Nigga, be for real

We got Benz's, Rovers' and Jag's, Hummer's and Deville's

Got a green S Class, ain't broke the do' seal

Shit ain't been the same since I signed Fo' Reel

This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil

Five and countin', dirty six at will

Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide

I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at 9

I hear'em cryin', "You gon' sell out"

Ya damn right, I done sold out before

And re-caught the same night

Straight hopped the next flight

Too *Icey* for sunlight

Dunkin' without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty

I'm from the Show-Me State

Show me seven I'll show you eight

Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans

Representin' St. Louis everytime I breathe

In the city I touch down, and I bob and weave, ay

I sport my beeper on my boots

That's why I be a buzz when I kick

Maybe it's on my lips, it's chaos when I spit

Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic

Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo' shit

Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit

I'm the Pookey of the backyard

All colors and all types like a junkyard

High young boy with high young ways

Cuz I connect three blunts and be high for three days

You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here)

Probably couldn't tell cuz I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere)

I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)

TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)

I don't curr (care), hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair)

10 and a half in the Airforce Ones, give me two purr (pair) ugh

I'm from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang

One rapper, two rings and three chains

Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V12 horses

Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce's

Back porches made for hide and go seek

We got space out here, we can ride and cheif

Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us

By the time they catchin' up, we smokin' up

And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark

St. Louis sportin' the Rams, Cards and lil' Arch

My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle

Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin' cargos

We racin' down Skinker, see how fast a car go

Granny be like "Ay, ya ya" like Ricky Ricardo

I know you wanna know why we do what we do

You cats ain't got a clue why the Cutlass blue

Brand new 22's on new UP's

With one, two, three, four, five TV's

I'm sittin' on the front porch, writin' a hood rhyme

Waitin' on my connect to deliver that good line

Wish I would find, one seed in my weed

Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed

Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen

Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken

Hidin' in the back with the po' po'

Stickin' my do'do', man they some ho' hooo's

They put the gun to my earr

You know the law don't fear

Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clearr

They had me face down in the skreet (street)

Errbody (everybody) watchin', thinkin' Ima pull the heat

And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet (street)

And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps

Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD

Beat the K, fuck coke, now I'm back on my granny poche (porch) hustlin'