(feat. Playaz Circle, Rick Ross, Ving Rhames)
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[Intro: Ving Rhames]
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He's a hustler, unbound by law
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A self-made, millionaire
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With a wreckless disregard, for the haters
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Ludacris, on "Southern Gangsta"...
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A true, entrepre-negro
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CEO of Disturbing Tha Peace Records
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He expended his empire into multiple profitable businesses
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Including his Thai food restaurant, Straits
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Internet sites, WeMix.com
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And my favorite, MyGhetto.com
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The MVP, of this rap shit
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[Ludacris]
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Luda! I'm a hustler, BALLER, gangsta, CAP PEELER
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I stay strapped like your neighborhood trap dealer
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I got rifles that blow ya below ya bible belt
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And mac-11's that leave you wetter than Michael Phelps! (woo!)
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But you'll be swimmin with the fishes
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Softer than bitches washin dishes, fool what's the BUSINESS?
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I'm already rich, so talk mo' figures (yup)
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Spit 30 large for cigars of you hoe niggaz (oww!)
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I got gangstas that'll rearrange ya whole face
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And put your casket on ice, now that's a cold case (ha!)
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Never forget where you come or that block'll bang you
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I keep my ear to the STREETS like a cocker spaniel
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I cock and blast you, into outer space
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Break every bone in ya, you so out of place
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Boom without a trace, you a bluff to block
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I got some red beams, let's play connect the dots!
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[Interlude: Ving Rhames]
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He's the biggest boss, comin outta the M-I-yayo
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Straight from the "Port of Miami"
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To keepin it "Trilla"
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Involved in many heated acts of violence
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This goes deeper than rap shit
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He's worth eight figures
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So young niggaz, boss up
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I present to you, Rick Ross, the boss
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[Rick Ross]
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I got a letter from the government, the other day
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I opened and read it, it said "We want hustlers"
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Had a Lexus at 18, picture that
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Got a Chevy with pictures on it from pitchin crack
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Bitch I know Haitians, we speakin Creole
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Bitch I'm a D-boy, still slingin kilos
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I got twenty cars, why exaggerate?
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It cost me five grand just to fill the gas tanks
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Love the marble floors, got the Greek pillows
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Frontin at awards, real street niggaz
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I used to serve shake, now I serve steaks
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Three squares on the road, call it 3rd Bass
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Big ass face, chop you in your laugh face
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Shoot his ass, aim defense is the last case
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Keep Jewish friends, the newest Benz
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You in a pool of blood, let me see you swim
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[Interlude: Ving Rhames]
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Hailing from College Park, Georgia
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Authorities figured they must have been some sort of mob
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Or illegal organization
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According to authorities, they made a quarter mil' a week
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Selling {?}, they were some high-rollin hustlers
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Tity Boi, and Dolla Boy
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Playaz Circle, A.K.A., the Duffle Bag Boys
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[Tity Boi (Dolla Boy)]
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Uhh, I'm so sick I wrote this verse in a hospital
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It's an election year, I support struggle
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(We roll like bicycles, icicle flow)
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(White liquor, my nigga stay on line with the blow)
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I'm on time with the flow, not a minute nor second late
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Ain't no such thing as second place
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(And every day I live heavyweight, you niggaz featherweight)
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(Fairytale tellin niggaz really need to take a break)
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And the estate got a lake for a backyard
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(The pool room product put it all on my sacks card)
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For real? (Yeah, for real)
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I'm ill, I deal, I did, I will
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(I got dogs like Cujo, me and Tity two chains ridin in a two do')
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Bitches catch kudos (you know)
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Yeah we move weight like sumos
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And kicks it with them bitches like judo
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SOUTHSIDE!
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[Outro: Ving Rhames]
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Playaz Circle, Rick Ross, Ludacris
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This has been another episode, of "Southern Gangsta"
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Thanks for tunin in, what's next for Luda?
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Well, anything's possible, in the (Theater of the Mind)
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-----------------
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Southern Gangsta
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| Ludacris |
