to the South, take off your shoes when you walk in the house (Hook) (Verse 3: Talib Kweli) Yo I grew up where they're playing skele in the parking
in white Louis Vuitton. Boys in the PEN, stand up strong. Its the young don on the mic goin long. I cant fall off, i represent the south. I spent 20,
guess its cause I'm having thangs [Aztek] I'm still draped up and dripped out, know what I'm talking bout Fighting over parking spots, bustin in the parking
a whole sound now My heart so hard, the cookie need a powerdrive I'm triple a arrogant ass attitude 100 down south, right down the last avenue This the dead
(hit dat) I'm Violent J and I'm one to fake I wanna see some folded up skank bitches naked! I pass out when it gets dark and woke up naked at the Clark Park
'm Violent J, ain't even one to fake it I wanna see some folded up skank bitches naked I pass out when it gets dark And woke up naked at the Clark Park
to Martha Stewart, if I could park a Buick Then I could flip a Brink's truck, I got the heart to do it Ball like the nigga Tony Parker do it Speak no
love with the sound that was coming out form the East Coast So we got it and twisted it up a bit, now the industry's having a heatstroke Some say that rap is dead
they feel that they're not gettin paid? " [kool keith] You heard jeremy lawner got shot four times in the face Standin on west 8th street, two blocks from park
" You're posin' as a high-class stinky-ass hoodrat Fuck behind any man's back, bum bitch at the Shark Bar Lookin' like an aardvark with a fucked up parked
is on the mix So, yo, suck a nigga dick Or make a nigga rich or somethin', bitch See, I come from the place known as the South Park Zone Talkin' shit
at the dance Inside of your mind or inside of my pants? Musical intention that we have is vast You sick, drink a NyQuil, well, I'm dead on your Oh well
my nigga Cash stole his copilot who used to drive like sacks of blow on this remote area, we label Dead Man's Island Two hundred miles South from Thailand
there loved ones, Sick, kids guard their crop with a slug gun, From rips, move like Schapelle on a drug run, So quick, there's kids in the park waiting
With a minute's silence for the dead And a minute's silence for the long-lost lovers No one's really in the mood for beer With a minute's silence for
And no one saw the carny go The weeks flew by Until they moved on the show Leaving his caravan behind It was parked out on the south east ridge And as
only gon wind up dead tryin' to prove shit I put chalk around ya head like a pool stick I gotta have bucks on the waist I'm hungry like a south african
South side of town with a brick in my hand Forest, Melrose, McKinley, the boulevard, Washington Patterson, Courtland I'm on the Cross Bronx with Gunz my man On the South
