album: Wooden Leather (2003)
genre:

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[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 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 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]

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