West Savannah

West Savannah






Ms. Jackson

Ms. Jackson




[Big Boi] February 1st, 1975 it happened Was born in West Savannah way before I started rappin My mamma had a nigga at the age of fifteen My daddy was sellin that sack, now he's gots responsibilities Stayed at me granny's while me mammy was at work and she couldn't watch my every move so shit I started servin Around Frazier Home, down in the West Side projects Changin over foodstamps, and hittin a lick was next see I'm just a playa like that, my jeans was sharply creased I got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed East So flyin, or floatin, a Brougham is what I'm sportin Sade is in my tape deck, I'm movin in slow motion boi So meet me deep in the streets that's where I learned the capers Us lickin blunts, lickin leaves, rollin reefer papers I'm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucket But the niggaz around the Ave. and the hoes, they love me They wanna be me and my family too Because the money that I make be puttin cable off in every room So follow the beans, follow my lead through the nooks and crannies It's everyday life off in my hood so come and holla at me But go 'head on, with that foolishness bitch Let me get lovely with my swerve because I'm true to this shit And if you comin with eight dollars, you shit out of luck Because the West Side ain't takin no shorts on the dime So fire it up [Chorus:] Now now now nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch Diggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm! (like that now, like this, and it don't quit, and it don't stop) Nine in my hand, oune in my crotch Diggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm! (and it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and ah) See, niggaz in the South wear gold teeth and gold chains Been doin it for years, so these niggaz ain't gone change They comin around the ghetto so you might call em soul Been wearin furry Kangol's, so that shit is old You might slang a rock or two just to pay the rent Five dollars for a table dance so now your money's spent You listen to that booty shake music in your trunk as long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump I'm down to stick a hoe if she got a G-strang Cause the niggaz in the Pointe ain't changed, main You might call us country, but we's only Southern And I don't give a fuck, P-Funk spot to spark another [Chorus w/ variations (repeat to end)]
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