Clip vidéo

Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Edward Stroud
Edward Stroud
Guitare
Preston Crump
Preston Crump
Basse
Kenneth Wright
Kenneth Wright
Piano
Jeff Sparks
Jeff Sparks
Saxophone
Society of Soul
Society of Soul
Chœurs
Debra Killings
Debra Killings
Chœurs
Brandon Bennett
Brandon Bennett
Chœurs
Tony "T-Bone" Hightower
Tony "T-Bone" Hightower
Chœurs
André 3000
André 3000
Chant
Big Boi
Big Boi
Chant
Grover Washington, Jr.
Grover Washington, Jr.
Artiste samplé
Ray Murray
Ray Murray
Programmation
Rico Wade
Rico Wade
Programmation
Sleepy Brown
Sleepy Brown
Programmation
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Antwan Patton
Antwan Patton
Paroles/Composition
André "3000" Benjamin
André "3000" Benjamin
Paroles/Composition
Patrick Brown
Patrick Brown
Paroles/Composition
Ray Murray
Ray Murray
Paroles/Composition
Rico Wade
Rico Wade
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Organized Noize
Organized Noize
Production
NHP Sound, Inc.
NHP Sound, Inc.
Ingénierie de prise de son
Sean "Shy Boy" Davis
Sean "Shy Boy" Davis
Ingénierie de prise de son
Mark Hawley
Mark Hawley
Assistance d’ingénierie
John "Bernasky" Wall
John "Bernasky" Wall
Assistance d’ingénierie de mixage
Leslie Brathwaite
Leslie Brathwaite
Assistance d’ingénierie de mixage

Paroles

Well, it's the M-I-crooked letter coming around the South Rolling straight Hammers and Vogues in that old Southern slouch Please, ain't nothing but incense in my atmosphere I'm bending corners in my 'Lac, boi 'Cause that's how we be rolling here Deep, the slang is in effect because it's Georgia Kicking the khakis and Adidas Packing yo' heaters 'cause you 'sposed to, cousin Catfish and grits is how my flow flows Rolling steady in that Caddy but them 50 bottles got to go See, juice and gin used to be my friend from the beginning Now I'm just a player sipping sauce every now and then To catch a buzz like a bumblebee Niggas who tried to fuck with me Get sprayed like Raid 'cause it ain't nothing to see My heat is in the trunk along with that quad knock No, my heart don't pump no Kool-Aid Jump and you'll get too sprayed Who raise yo' block? The one and only OutKast Many a nigga falling fast, and I continue blasting, swiftly They ain't gon' get me, got something fo' em The devil up in yo' grill, and you still don't even know 'em Show 'em who's the OK Like collard greens and Hoecakes, I got soul That's something that you ain't got That's why your style is rot-ten Stop in the land of ATL Where nothing but pimps fully equipped quick to make a sale Swell, swollen got my pockets, business booming like rockets Folks try to stop it, but they know that it's that It's that Southernplayalisticadillac funky music Now, players if you choose it You better make sure you don't abuse it We gonna get cha high, high Time to drop these 'bows like Dusty Rhodes Then I yell "ho," and knock 'em up off they feet Like a Southern hustler supposed to do I's in the house like... a joint is lit for my kinfolks And all the niggas that was down since we been broke Taking 'em deeper than a submarine So scream when you hear the team of two Look, my crew be thick as two fat hoes sitting off in a Brougham I'm packing my tag backwards if you want to be acting wrong Word is bond like superglue, it's funky like poopa scoop And every word I say you can true Well, okey dokey, 'Kast out I swear to God, I got the highest booming Cadillac The expialalistic Coupe de Ville, can you handle that, you rat? I take my time cruising 'round the city malls And under my seat for you suckers is your final curtain call The one two to the gauge, P-U-M-P You want to do a jack, I heat the barrel 'til it's empty, get me? See, I ain't Finlay, getting in where I fit Organized is on the track with the Southernplayalistic shit So copy my slang and bite my shit, but don't try gaffling me 'Cause sleep, and you'll get served with some Southern hospitality It's that Southernplayalisticadillac funky music Now, players if you choose it You better make sure you don't abuse it We gonna get cha high, high Well, Southernplayalisticadillac music has been laid I may wait for all day and day, be rolling like that today, hoe So back up off it, get up on it if you want it, y'all Looking for hoes and snitches was my thing on Player's Ball, yup So now I step, rather walk with the pimp limp While my niggas are at East Point with that College Park hemp Smoked out is how I wanna end it on this track So I pass it to my partner and step back up in my Cadillac Step up in my shoes, you crews sitting on Trues And Vogues for the hoes only when we rolling through Atlanta skies be blue, the sun is beaming, it's seeming That I'm glistening, rather gleaming 20/20 got me leaning to the side, full of pride Now ain't that something? I'm dipping into your hood, this ain't Braille, but I'm bumping Thumping out the roaches, Dungeon if y'all missed it Big Gipp, Goodie Mob, PA, OutKast, Southernplayalistic It's that Southernplayalisticadillac funky music Now, players if you choose it You better make sure you don't abuse it We gonna get cha high, high It's that Southernplayalisticadillac funky music Now, players if you choose it You better make sure you don't abuse it We gonna get cha high, high It's that Southernplayalisticadillac funky music Now, players if you choose it You better make sure you don't abuse it We gonna get cha high, high
Writer(s): Rico Wade, Patrick Brown, Raymon Ameer Murray, Andre Benjamin, Antwan Patton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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