No Good

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 seperate the real from lames Yeaga B 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 k