Yo, yeah, this is the Rocafella remix
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Killer-Cam, Nappy Roots, y'all ready?
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Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy
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Y'all done up and done it
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Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy
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Y'all done up and done it
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Awnaw! Hell naw! Boy
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Y'all done up and done it
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Ah, y'all done up and done it
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Man y'all done up and done it
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[Fish Scales]
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My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hooks
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You hear me flippin thru my pages out my favorite notebooks
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The microphone was in the closet, no headphones, we lost it
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Niggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin over the faucets
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No AC, Tez'll break a sweat just tryin to make beats
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E-Dubz was being a hustler
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always flirtin with all his customers, and flat broke
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Nappy smokin blacks out on the back po'ch
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I'm thinkin I got everything a country boy could ask for
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[Big V]
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Now what we do to get here? (say that boy)
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Lay it down and bring it to ya raw (say that boy)
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Hey now we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for
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Hated for for the cussin, but the hatred it made us cuss more
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Held on, but it was hard, stepped up, took charge
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Ran through what we scared of, but what was we afraid for?
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Look at what we made of, hard times done made us
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Being here is alright, but must believe we want more!
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[Jazze Pha]
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Them country boys on the rise
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With them big fat wheels on the side
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Peep them vertical grills on the ride
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And awww-aw-aww-aw
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Them country boys
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With them big fat wheels
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Peep the vertical grills
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And awwwww
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[Skinny DeVille]
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My yegga, we hogwild, bet that from that roota to that toota file
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Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles
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Kentucky mud, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred spokes
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Skullied on that front porch, plus you know they got dro
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Seventy-nine coupe DeVille vertical Caddy grill
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Interstate 65 heading down to Cashville
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Glass filled, to the tippy top, back seat Benz
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Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints
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A damn shame, gotta grind anything and everything
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Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane
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A long time, a gravel road, to cash and fame and sold my soul
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To Hell and back, and back and forth, with same jeans and nappy 'fro
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[R. Prophit]
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I might, hop off the Harley, smoke mine like Bob Marley
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Block parties with shawties, wallin like they swallowin Bacardi
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Them butter-skin, Prophit gutter like kin
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Understand you 'bout to lose ya life fuckin with them
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[Jazze Pha]
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Them country boys on the rise
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With them big fat wheels on the side
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Peep them vertical grills on the ride
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And awww-aw-aww-aw
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Them country boys
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With them big fat wheels
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Peep the vertical grills
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And awwwww
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[Cam'Ron]
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Killer, uh, when it come to New York
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I'm the man around town, just trust me
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Down in the buggy, I that cat down in Kentucky
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Outta Bowling Green, heard ya holding cream
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Mess with a city slicker, we could mould the team
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We'll talk in code, smoker be the sandbox
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Could be the hamhots, or be the lamb chops
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We'll make wild mills, how ill
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I'll show you how that denial feel, trade in that cow grill
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[Twista]
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Finna head south, get up out the city
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Smokin' on a fifty, feelin' pretty good
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With a hood chick, gotta hit a little bit
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Now she call me daddy in a caddy full of wood
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Call me country, TV's on the headrest
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Even if there ain't no seats in the back of me
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I play the DVD's, for the cars on the streets
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And the people in back of me
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I'm trailin', a chevy with a grill or the black cadillac, got the option
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If it ain't got rims when the drop on the block with no locks than it's not my concoction
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Hurt 'em with the chrome, rollin' on chrome rims it's the twenties
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This Nappy Roots and Twista, if it ain't dope then don't call it country
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[Jazze Pha]
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Them country boys on the rise!
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With them big fat wheels on the side!
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Peep the vertical grills on the ride!
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And aw-awww-awww-awwwww!
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Them country boys
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With them big fat wheels
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Peep the vertical grills
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And awwwwwwww!
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-----------------
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Awnaw (Remix)
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Nappy Roots |