No Good Lyrics - Wooden Leather - Nappy Roots

[B Stille] 

Yooooo! 

I said Yooooo! 

For all them industry haters that said we couldn't do it... 

This for my country thug street yeagas! 

You know we gon' 

[Hook] 

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood 

Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good 

Yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should 

Folk round here be up to no good 

[Verse 1] 

[Skinny Deville] 

My yeaga lookin like one of them days 

I got a Franklin in my pocket, with this lint like a slave 

And 20 cent to my name, tryna make this crime pay 

Money spent, Ben gone, left me with the Hamil-ton 

Window tint, same ol' song 

Lincoln on a sack, with the fifty-dat 

Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk 

Country-fried, pack a blunt 

Erything tight, Volume 2 off in the trunk, bump 

In a slump, head-shot got me pumped like a gauge 

Turn the page, flip the script 

Hit the script jump, shorty with the dump 

In the hatchback, ass fat 

Nickel bag of funk, caught a skunk in a rat trap 

Sat back, hit it once, hit it twice, pass that 

Mashed-out, Fleetwood, Cadillac, headed South 

Woodgrain, Pure Grain, hold it in and let it out 

Bouncin' like a bunny hunny, tell the shorty set it out 

Get in where we fit in, we gon' try our best to sell it out 

[Hook 2x] 

[Verse 2] 

[B Stille] 

We makes it hot for 'em, feel the flames 

Who separate the real from lames 

Yeaga be Stille's his name 

(Where you from?) 

The Ville, LaGrange, to Mills and Fane 

Look how far Louisville's done came! 

Now break it down 

I like my pockets fat 

And my weed green 

And my liquor brown 

And my hens clean 

With they panties down 

And a beat that keep my yeagas bouncin, bouncin, bouncin, bouncin 

Check, check 

My mic vocals, is like choke-holds 

Fetch the billfold that my cheese is in 

And purchase a nickel to help me breathe again 

I'm from a place where blood spills and stains 

Filled with drug deals and gangs 

Yeagas with gold grills and thangs 

Drink up, fill ya tanks, spill ya drinks 

It's Nappy, dawg, untamed 

Southern slang, unchanged 

We sendin' slugs through ya brain 

(Fuck what you know, good) 

And all my thugs, for the sane 

[Hook 2x] 

[Verse 2] 

[Fish Scales] 

A cool cat, with a pimp hat 

Cup fulla Gin-Jack 

Dreaded out, throwin up deuces 

When I'm headed out 

Slice it up and bet it out, 5-0-4 

Throw the prices up and set it out 

Real niggaz never doubt 

Swerve to the calico, give me a deuce of that 

Make it 2 of that, pack a tip, flush a Optimo 

Keep the change, got to go 

Flirt, tryna talk dirty 

Georgia-bred, you can tell by my Hawk jersey 

Hit me up if you get off early 

Then I dap out, so clean 

Yo honey actin' mo' mean 

Napped-out, momma asking me "What's all that 'bout?" 

Say I got big plans, look slim but mapped-out 

Country boy with country game 

Never spittin' nothin' lame 

Get paid to rap, still a dap like ain't nothin' changed 

My shit stay Nappy, split ends stay happy 

Bad threads must've came from his pappy 

[Hook until end]