All A's Lyrics - Goodie Mob

I got to feed, the beat, the gat on the seat 

Fakin ain't these girls fake when they see they face in the paint 

Mustard and mayonnaise, and we smoke always 

Passin by these haters like we got all A's 

Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street? 

Nuttin but hard times, workin this concrete 

I'm gettin dirty looks from niggaz, on the next street over 

They was in my filthy, fiendin gettin closer 

I'm in my seventy-nine, flyin 

Mobbed out so they can't see me when I'm ridin 

They slow me down, holla like we buddy buddy 

But at the same time I know these muh'fuckers wanna mug me 

Okay gunplay at the one-way one day witcha 

But I'll do years, if I bust these niggaz 

Keep point four-five calibers of chrome 

I'm, comin forth to carry you home 

Yo, well you damn right, dig it they call me Sugar Delight 

Uh-ohh hoe, Willie cuttin virgin broads tonight 

Blowin like a boss, that champion chief in cost 

And oh my dual exhaust, will make your shit get lost 

There's somethin bout these guns that give these hoes asthma attacks 

These are actual facts, I ain't been in no actual car-jacks 

but let me tell you this, I'll burn a nigga ass up to a crisp 

Ridin with these two glocks, we gon' bounce on off, on the new shocks 

My nigga don't hate me, cause I ain't hated, but we related 

No one includin me, should be understimated 

But don't you dare ride through the SWATS without, at least 30 shots 

Cause I'm tellin ya, these Southern boys gon' get all they got 

Pop it in, get to work, brains blow,?? 

off the block before your carcass drop 

Can't share nothin with the niggeroles, stealin socks 

Out your cornbread dream too, if you got those, leavin deaf hoes 

brown, on the outside, pink, in the middle 

Ain't, barrin none hundred round draw 

Nothin under seventy-five, and I get slick?? 

Takin no prisoners cuffed, they die fightin for they freedom 

Everytime son, rhymes too pretty'll get your mascara smeared 

When they did, my buddy Spanky I bust out in tears 

The world would be a better place to live, if it was less queers 

I still see, punk ass bitches. bitches. 

Get up off and give me room, activate, motivate 

Y'all from the section where the straight shit, straight up off the top 

Block for block, yo we got the??, wait for days 

Gone up off the Purple Haze, when you see me call me Mr. Gipp 

Shoot em from the hip, everytime I'm in my 84 Sedan Deville 

block me off and watch me peel, Big Boi grill ridin through the park 

on the weekend ain't no stoppin keep it dippin that's how we trippin 

Lookin mean, you too clean behind the glass 

Watch yo' ass, keep yo' elbows out the windows 

and my hands upon the wood wheel, money in my socks 

Lookin out, for the cops, and for the haters got a fifty shot 

whatever you wanna call it, nigga what? What? 

Now watch em slide like some finger lickin chicken, bout to start clickin 

Hoe better know who the true G's are, I'm the star, brand new car 

Dope ki lyrical cascade height, SWATS type, mic soldier 

Blowin composer, chief of that doja, told ya when I was older 

I wanted to live the good life, money over that bull, got that pull 

Stomach full, posse thick, niggaz wish, at a young age 

Goodie Mo.B., doin they thang, I, pray, for, change 

and my players in this game it's insane, how this 'caine 

is bringin em pain, young'un doin time dyin by this grind 

A-T-L, fine this just how it's goin down 

And the sound, watch your mouth in this motherfuckin Dirty South 

Nigga check it out, dirty SWATS got SPOTS 

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