Testi

A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe My nigga what you know about the A-T-L-A-N-T-A, my nigga we swervin' How all the fuck boys sittin' on Michael Jordan blinin' when the sun be scorchin' Who that be me, B-A-B-Y D from the B-I-G double O-M-P I said it before, but I'm goin' to say it again My nigga we too D double E-P I represent the dirty, dirty south, down here, lil' buddy, we don't play no games I represent the A-T-L, Eastside shawty and the Westside niggas on the thang Throw your hood up, make your shoulder jump, if ya hatin' on the "A" then lock 'em in the trunk Y'all don't know who you fuckin' with But I'll bet we'll bounce on your motherfuckin' ass like it ain't shit ATL Hoe, throwin' up them "A's" Gangsta walk on the motherfuckin' stage Nigga watch me bounce on these sucka ass punks Then fuck around and got the "A" town started Don't make me say, "Ain't told you so" Throwin' bows to the nose sayin', "Yeah hoe" Pastor Troy, Archie, and Big Oomp click Add it up young nigga that Gangsta shit ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe AT (yeah) A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T (hey, come on) Nigga it's Archie The fattest skinny nigga you will ever know Tryin' to stop my cheddar flow, holla at my beretta blow At ya dome and at ya chest, wear your chrome and wear your vest Had your home a bloody mess, faked thugs get bless with a slug to the chest Arch to the "I" to the "E", passin' Baby D beside me Eastside Boyz is right behind me, "A" town bitch nigga, you tryin' to find me Simpson Road down to Godbe, these are the places that I be These are the faces that I see, I die for the city, don't play by me You can try me if you wanna, Archie be bringing drama Pistol carry ya, bury ya, makes you say, "We The Bomb Ya" Death before dishonor, put that on my mama The fat boy representer, 'til I'm a goner, yeah, nigga ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T ATL hoe Pistol, pistol, my pistol banana fanna Atlanta Bombin' on the bitch, the young the filthy rich The six I use to drive was live but underrated I cut off the top and had the V12 gold-plated But some niggas hated, they do not hate it in public Them pussy ass niggas gon' make me jump to my bucket The brown one with the three rims I whoop up on your block, nigga your chance slim Do you remember Tim, they call him, "Poor Timmy" I fuck his pussy over his hammy with a fifty rimmy Think you are nigga friendly 'cause I'm the Pastor Bitch, I ain't Creflow, this ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe ATL hoe, ATL hoe A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T ATL hoe (we ready)
Writer(s): Jonathan Smith, Micah Troy Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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