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Khujo Goodie How We Ride in Dah South Here are the song lyrics for How We Ride in Dah South by Khujo Goodie. For more excellent Khujo Goodie lyrics, run a search! Typed by: webmaster@webwielder.com * * send corrections to the typist Khujo Gipp T-Mo (Uh-huh) Y'all know how we do it down here in this dirty, man It's your boy Nitty, and you know what I do We gone represent this thing right to the fullest (alright) Southwest (what?), Dent (who?), East Point (what?), College Park, where y'all at? All my niggaz, you know what time it is Y'all know how we get down To the fullest Alright Let's do it [Verse 1: Khujo] K to the H to the U to the J to the O G double O D to the I to the E One for the G MO to the B Schooled by the B to the E to the S to the T Hundred percenter, so winner Suck up and see the venom like it ain't no thing Then wash it down it with a glass of Tang Bang cock suck them rappers mouthing off in a magazine See the fire, feel the flame Jacktime Atlanta mafia came We don't care who you with Screw your name Snatch your chain Street punks messing up the game Once a lame, always a lame Trick busters ain't who they claim Come around here wiling out, you will get changed It's business, never personal Get it with a chain on your brain Get it with a lick we, um, at a shooting range You can holler God MC, but you gone die like a man Blood is pain I make it simple and plain Blat point blank range All these poppas leave the bathroom in his name It's a crying shame What a nigga do for the fame! [Ad-libs] This is what really goes down in the South We gone get down shawty [Chorus: repeat 2X] Drank smoke dro Stack dough Pimp hoes Pockets on swole with a mouth full of gold How we ride in the South Playing house four doors Drop the top when it's hot Pump the heat when it's cold [Verse 2: Big Gipp] Remember me? Big Gipp, AKA the Big Dipper Moon pot flipper If the flame fizzle I'm a go to the block and set the niggaz Most improved hitter In the pocket like a rocket is how I like it I'm a cantaloupe spitter Let the horn blow Hoes too Hold true and drive through If I couldn't walk around I took the train or flew Look what it come to More hugs, more lies, more love, more flies More ways of turning corners burning up my new rally tires I keep it stinking like Doritoes Never owned a pair of Speedos Never slacking Cadillac jacking Damn he just so sweet Choking Killa B with no tint Want the whole world to see Thorugh the tree Glass house, rag top, and pass out Hit the stash house Get what I need and then I mash out Couple turkey legs Throw a few golds up in my head Comprehend what I said This is truly how it be representing for East Point When I'm standing in the field [Chorus] [Verse 3: Murder] You can find me Somewhere in Decatur in a Chevy and I'm riding on dubs Or you might see Me coming through the streets with a freak in the late night clubs Hustling for that cheese Standing in the hood in the cut me and my dog on a shopping spree From the west did a robbery and I saw my first call hit jazzy T Then we hit Magic City and headed for the bounce Blowing chronic leaves Or should I say dro? My click won't blow by the ounce Lyrical arsonist Living in the slums in Atlanta they got me for me murder I run with the hardest clique In the S.W.A.T.s to the deck I was a hard ass nigga Better show you we off in a velvet room Was fucking in a gentleman club We in VIP Sipping crystal From the goose to the yack We can see SOV, Goodie MO B my nigga Khujo On a plate trying to get rich The way that we spit be ridiculous And we'll go head over any lyricist From Gooben to Cambleton Road Platinum making fee all the way to College Park From Bankhead to Gabbey Road My whole clique nothing in the city ever born so hard So This is for The niggaz with the dough and whips sitting on two threes So all the real motherfuckers can forget about the ghetto with a real 'Lac in the streets [Chorus] [Verse 4: T-Mo] It's the dirty dirty playa Just hit thirty Bullseye Better not cry Make birds fly Off in the sky Away so high Everybody dies Many try, miss Get what you get boy Talk that shit boy Flip them bills Crooks get killed Nine millimill Running them suckers up out the ville Trill Still, waters run deep Off in the South While they sleep Off in the South While they creep Open up your mouth and sing! Off in the South we Built this bitch Run this bitch Hit that switch Up and down Flip that trick Ride it 'round Black white doors Pound for pound one of the best to ever represent the mighty southwest ATL to the fullest ATL to the fullest! [Ad-libs] There you have it I want to congratulate all the DJs Who got a chance to play this record without the club getting tore up From yours truly Sincerely Nitty
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