No Good - Nappy Roots

Yoo

I said Yoo

For all them industry haters

That said we couldn't do it

This for my country thug street yeagas

You know we gon'

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

My yeaga looking like one of them days

I got a Frankling in my pocket

With this lint like a slave

And 20 cent to my name

Tryna make this crime pay

Money spent Ben gone

Left me with the Hamil-ton

Window tint same ol' song

Lincoln on a sack

With the fifty dat

Bump my song

Get drunk get it crunk

Country-fried pack a blunt

Erything tight

Volume 2 off in the trunk bump

In a slump head shot got

Me pumped like a gauge

Turn the page flip the script

Hit the script jump

Shorty with the dump

In the hatchback ass fat

Nickel bag of funk

Caught a skunk in a rat trap

Sat back hit it once

Hit it twice pass that

Mashed out Fleetwood

Cadillac headed South

Woodgrain Pure Grain

Hold it in and let it out

Bouncin' like a bunny hunny

Tell the shorty set it out

Get in where we fit in

We gon' try our best to sell it out

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

We makes it hot for 'em

Feel the flames

Who separate the real from lames

Yeaga be Stille's his name

Where you from

The Ville LaGrange

To Mills and Fane

Look how far Louisville's done came

Now break it down

I like my pockets fat

And my weed green

And my liquor brown

And my hens clean

With they panties down

And a beat that keep my yeagas

Bouncin bouncin bouncin bouncin

My mic vocals

Is like choke holds

Fetch the billfold that my cheese is in

And purchase a nickel to

Help me breathe again

I'm from a place where

Blood spills and stains

Filled with drug deals and gangs

Yeagas with gold grills and thangs

Drink up fill ya tanks spill ya drinks

It's Nappy dawg untamed

Southern slang unchanged

We sendin' slugs through you brain

F**k what you know good

And all my thugs for the sane

You know be go

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

A cool cat with a pimp hat

Cup fulla Gin Jack

Dreaded out throwing up deuces

When I'm headed out

Slice it up and bet it out 5-0-4

Throw the prices up and set it out

Real niggaz never doubt

Swerve to the calico

Give me a deuce of that

Make it 2 of that

Pack a tip flush a Optimo

Keep the change got to go

Flirt tryna talk dirty

Georgia bred you can

Tell by my Hawk jersey

Hit me up if you get off early

Then I dap out so clean

Yo honey actin' mo' mean

Napped out momma asking

Me What's all that about

Say I got big plans

Look slim but mapped out

Country boy with country game

Never spittin' nothin' lame

Get paid to rap

Still a dap like ain't nothin' changed

My shit stay Nappy

Split ends stay happy

Bad threads must've came from his pappy

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good drink good

Eat good Fleetwood

Nickel bag of funk'll make a

Country yeaga sleep good

Yo' hood my hood

Tote heat sho' should

Folk round here be up to no good