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Virginia Lyrics - Lord Willin - Clipse

You ready to do this, nigga? 

You ready to come down here? 

It's Virginia, nigga 

We do this in broad daylight 

It's a whole different degree of homicide, nigga 

You ready? 

 

I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook 

(Talk about, what?) 

Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books 

(Talk about, what?) 

Where we re up, re locate, re off them brooks 

(Talk about, what?) 

So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look 

(Talk about, what?) 

 

In my "Home Sweet Home" I keep chrome next to my bones 

Alters my walk to limpin' 

(Home sweet home) 

Since I love the feel, I guess I'm passionately pimpin' 

It 'tis what it seems 

That thing imprintin' through the seams of my jeans 

By all means, lost it all, from lives to love 

Put my faith in my money, help me rise above 

See I turned to the Lord when them times got tough 

Bullied through streets, powder I pushed and shoved 

 

In that ole' Virginey 

Out of ten niggas, nine are guinea 

No money, all they know is gimme, got semis waitin' 

Heat like Caribbean summers, I been there 

Each year, a different bitch wonder 

Who wing she gon' fall under, Push' or Mal' 

Ganga grinds, wit' me, with thoughts of fuckin' them cross her mind 

Look ma, that's right up my alley 

I love my family, I want them all happy 

 

In Virginia, we smirked at that Simpson trial 

Yeah, I guess the chase was wild 

But what's the fuss about? 

See, plenty my partners feelin' like O.J. beat 

Murder like the shit is ok, that's what our door say 

Talk the evil that men do, I'm lost in the mental 

I miss you shampoo, we miss you shampoo 

And your grams, too 

 

My nigga 

Fo sho 

 

I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook 

(Talk about, what?) 

Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books 

(Talk about, what?) 

Where we re up, re locate, re off them brooks 

(Talk about, what?) 

So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look 

(Talk about, what?) 

 

I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook 

(Talk about, what?) 

Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books 

(Talk about, what?) 

Where we re up, re locate, re off them brooks 

(Talk about, what?) 

So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look 

(Talk about, what?) 

 

Seem like they all got a comment to make 

In regards to my paper, now they guessin' my weight 

They fast to predict the outcome of my fate 

Wonderin' 'bout Clipse and if they got what it take 

Malice, he think he hard, tough guy of the clique 

And Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shit 

You right on both counts, bitch, Clipse is us 

And there are some things that you don't discuss 

Don't ask me 'bout the Neptunes and what's they fair 

Don't ask about the loud screamin' chick with the hair 

Don't ask about my music, and how that's comin' 'bout 

Don't ask about my album, or when's it comin' out 

'Cause I feel like you really being funny on the slide 

Now face down, layin' on your tummy, or you die 

I tried being humble, humble get no respect 

Now the first sign of trouble, that's a hole up in your neck 

 

Plus, what I look like spendin' my nights in jail 

I could never be a thug, they don't dress this well 

I reside in VA, ride in VA 

Most likely when I die, I'm gon' die in VA 

Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here for out of towners 

Who think that they gon' move weight here 

Ironic, the same same place I'm makin' figures at 

That there's the same land they used to hang niggas at 

 

I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook 

(Talk about, what?) 

Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books 

(Talk about, what?) 

Where we re up, re locate, re off them brooks 

(Talk about, what?) 

So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look 

(Talk about, what?) 

 

I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook 

(Talk about, what?) 

Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books 

(Talk about, what?) 

Where we re up, re locate, re off them brooks 

(Talk about, what?) 

So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look 

(Talk about, what?) 

 

Young'n 

(Talk about, what?) 

This is real, young'n 

(Talk about, what?) 

You lookin' into a whole different world, young'n 

(Talk about, what?) 

This is real 

Live 

Writer: , , ,

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