Lyric Midwest Swing
[Chorus]
It s a Midwest thang, y all - and they ain t got a clue
(They ain t got a clue) why my Cutlass blue
and I got them thangs on that muh fucker too
It s a Midwest swang, y all - and they ain t gotta trip
(They ain t gotta trip) while we swing and dip
Cause we do big thangs on the muh fuckin hip
It s a Midwest thang
[Nelly]
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
What you think we live on a farm? Nigga be for real
We got Benz s Rovers and Jag s, Hummer s and Deville s
Got a green S Class, ain t broke the door seal
Shit ain t been the same since I signed Fo Reel
This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mill
Five and countin , dirty six at will
Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide
I ll be on my third Bentley by the time I m at 9
I hear em cryin, "You gon sell out" ya damn right
I done sold out before and re-comped the same night
Straight hopped the next flight, too *Icey* for sunlight
Dunkin without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty
I m from the Show-Me State, show me seven I ll show you eight
Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans
Representin St. Louis everytime I breathe
In the city I touch down and I bob and weave, ay
[Chorus]
[Murphy Lee]
I sport my beeper on my boots, that s why I be a buzz when I kick
Maybe it s on my lips, it s chaos when I spit
Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic
Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo chick
Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit, I m the Pooky of the backyard
All colors and all types like a junkyard
Hot young boy with hot young ways
Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days
You can tell by the way I walk I ain t from round hurr (here)
Probably couldn t tell cuz I ain t walkin nowhurr (nowhere)
I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)
TV s urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)
I don t curr (care), hell naw I ain t cuttin my hurr (hair)
Ten and a half in them Airforce 1 s, gimme two purr (pair) ugh
I m from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang
One rapper, two rings and three chains
[Kyjuan]
Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V-12 horses
Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce s
Back porches made for hide and go seek
We got space out hurr, we can ride and chief
Ain t gotta worry bout nobody approachin us
By the time they catchin up, we smoked it up
And my eyes be red, my lips a lil dark
The Lou is more than the Rams, Cards and lil Arch
My dirty s love to spark, and love to sparkle
Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin car do s (doors)
We racin down Skinker, see how fast our car go
Granny be like "Ay-yi-yi" like Ricky Ricardo
I know you wanna know why we do what we do
You cats ain t got a clue why the Cutlass blue
Brand new twenty-two s on new UV s
With one, two, three, four, five TV s
[Chorus]
[Big Lee A.K.A. Ali]
I m sittin on the front porch, writin a hood rhyme
Waitin on my connect to deliver that good line
Wish I would find, one seed in my weed
Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed
Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen
Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken
Hidin in the back with the po po
kicked in my do do , man they some ho hooo s
They put the gun to my earr, you know the Lord don t fear
Nann nigga, nann hoe, let s keep that bullshit clearr
They had me face down in the skreet
Errbody watchin, thinkin I ma pull the heat
And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet
And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps
Gon give it to this nigga like NYPD
Beat the K, fuck coke, now I m back on my granny porch hustlin
[Chorus] - repeat to fade
It s a Midwest thang, y all - and they ain t got a clue
(They ain t got a clue) why my Cutlass blue
and I got them thangs on that muh fucker too
It s a Midwest swang, y all - and they ain t gotta trip
(They ain t gotta trip) while we swing and dip
Cause we do big thangs on the muh fuckin hip
It s a Midwest thang
[Nelly]
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
What you think we live on a farm? Nigga be for real
We got Benz s Rovers and Jag s, Hummer s and Deville s
Got a green S Class, ain t broke the door seal
Shit ain t been the same since I signed Fo Reel
This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mill
Five and countin , dirty six at will
Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide
I ll be on my third Bentley by the time I m at 9
I hear em cryin, "You gon sell out" ya damn right
I done sold out before and re-comped the same night
Straight hopped the next flight, too *Icey* for sunlight
Dunkin without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty
I m from the Show-Me State, show me seven I ll show you eight
Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans
Representin St. Louis everytime I breathe
In the city I touch down and I bob and weave, ay
[Chorus]
[Murphy Lee]
I sport my beeper on my boots, that s why I be a buzz when I kick
Maybe it s on my lips, it s chaos when I spit
Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic
Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo chick
Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit, I m the Pooky of the backyard
All colors and all types like a junkyard
Hot young boy with hot young ways
Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days
You can tell by the way I walk I ain t from round hurr (here)
Probably couldn t tell cuz I ain t walkin nowhurr (nowhere)
I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)
TV s urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)
I don t curr (care), hell naw I ain t cuttin my hurr (hair)
Ten and a half in them Airforce 1 s, gimme two purr (pair) ugh
I m from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang
One rapper, two rings and three chains
[Kyjuan]
Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V-12 horses
Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce s
Back porches made for hide and go seek
We got space out hurr, we can ride and chief
Ain t gotta worry bout nobody approachin us
By the time they catchin up, we smoked it up
And my eyes be red, my lips a lil dark
The Lou is more than the Rams, Cards and lil Arch
My dirty s love to spark, and love to sparkle
Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin car do s (doors)
We racin down Skinker, see how fast our car go
Granny be like "Ay-yi-yi" like Ricky Ricardo
I know you wanna know why we do what we do
You cats ain t got a clue why the Cutlass blue
Brand new twenty-two s on new UV s
With one, two, three, four, five TV s
[Chorus]
[Big Lee A.K.A. Ali]
I m sittin on the front porch, writin a hood rhyme
Waitin on my connect to deliver that good line
Wish I would find, one seed in my weed
Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed
Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen
Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken
Hidin in the back with the po po
kicked in my do do , man they some ho hooo s
They put the gun to my earr, you know the Lord don t fear
Nann nigga, nann hoe, let s keep that bullshit clearr
They had me face down in the skreet
Errbody watchin, thinkin I ma pull the heat
And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet
And that - pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps
Gon give it to this nigga like NYPD
Beat the K, fuck coke, now I m back on my granny porch hustlin
[Chorus] - repeat to fade
