Інформація про пісню На цій сторінці ви можете ознайомитися з текстом пісні New South, виконавця - Bubba Sparxxx.
Дата випуску: 22.09.2003
Мова пісні: Англійська
New South |
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
To all it was |
All it is |
And all it shall be |
New South |
Uh, yeah, yeah |
I gotta key Bubba answers, a kilo of questions |
The heart for humility, that ego perplexes |
Strength, will and honor, a hero’s possessions |
On the road to destiny I need no directions |
Far to Southerners, the best man the winner |
And only this morning does the best man remember |
Fighters seen the weak, more success than inventors |
And a saint never ever suffers less than a sinner |
But I’m proud to admit that this shit no longer |
Phases or amazes me, I only grow stronger |
At any given moment this world can so long ya |
Box you up, drop you in the dirt and slow song ya |
So every blessed minute I’m breathin |
I’m conceivin, for when I do perish, reasons for your grievin |
That’s not to say I plan on leavin here this evening |
I’ll be in Honolulu with Steven next season |
Live, die, laugh, cry |
Life will pass by |
Breathe in, exhale |
I scream, you yell |
New South! (New South!) |
New South! (New South!) |
Ew, a ew, (break it down) |
Ew, a ew (break it down) |
And we gonna rush 'em with a blitz on this |
Go round the world and hit every other upper scale and project brick with it |
Bubba Sparxxx who meet with the Organized Godly beat |
Man it’s funny how God can be when you work hard to achieve |
It’s still slaw nigga (*vocal scratch*), spittin that Pac liquor |
This is straight up pocket party, your summer that not nigga |
classical rhymes got most cats tryna battle with Ken |
Bet they won’t «go up shit creek without they paddle again» |
Come down to my town, bet you won’t visit Athens again |
And I write that hard har, roll like I got crack in my pen |
But since your so happy that things go exactly as planned |
Don’t clack if we land, then it’s crack a lackin again |
Then most of these clowns up outta the pay |
All I need is a stout, clean your coolatta and day |
And the day that I’m able to finally get outta the game |
What this hip hop has become is what the New South gotta change |
Bring it back |
What difference does it make, who I’m affiliated with |
Cause if you love 'em, how could you have really hated this |
All the groundbreakin these hillbilly maders did |
Wasn’t no room for +Bubba Talk+ until we made it did |
I flow for Jimmy Mathis on that bus route daily |
And for momma June and all she fuss about lately |
I’m a get it white, if your hairless for Governor |
I’m tellin y’all the yanks ain’t prepared for this southerner |
C-Dub certified, DF, dignitary |
Beat Club, they applaud, New South, visionary |
In spite of the efforts y’all made to pigeon hole me |
I rose from the pig shit without a smidgen on me |
At 15, '90, Adam’s drive makin miracles |
For these many much, yes and everyday is pivotal |
I’m no entertainer so what I say is literal |
You say you «New South», faker tat it on your genitals |