Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ali
Ali
Vocals
Jason Epperson
Jason Epperson
Programming
Kyjuan
Kyjuan
Vocals
Murphy Lee
Murphy Lee
Vocals
Nelly
Nelly
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Cornell Haynes, Jr.
Cornell Haynes, Jr.
Songwriter
Ali Kenyatta Jones
Ali Kenyatta Jones
Songwriter
Murphy Lee
Murphy Lee
Songwriter
Robert Ky Juan Cleveland
Robert Ky Juan Cleveland
Songwriter
Jason Epperson
Jason Epperson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jason Epperson
Jason Epperson
Producer
John Adler
John Adler
Mixing Engineer
Steve Eigner
Steve Eigner
Engineer

Lyrics

It's a Midwest thang y'all And it ain't got a clue (it ain't got a clue) Why my cutlass blue? And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too It's a Midwest swang y'all It ain't gotta trip (it ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip 'Cause we do big thangs on the motherfuckin' hip What you think, we live on a farm? Nigga, be for real We got Benz's, Rovers and Jag's, Hummer's and Deville's Got a green S Class, ain't broke the do' seal Shit ain't been the same since I signed fo' reel This shit got real, when I hit four mil Five and countin' dirty six at will Did seven on the slide, eight worldwide I'll be on my third Bentley by the time I'm at nine I hear 'em cryin', "You gon' sell out" Ya damn right, I done sold out before and re-caught the same night Straight hopped the next flight, too icey for sunlight Dunkin' without sprite, yeah you heard me dirty I'm from the Show-Me State, show me seven I'll show you eight Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans Representin' St. Louis every time I breathe In the city I touch down, and I bob and weave, ay It's a Midwest thang y'all And it ain't got a clue (it ain't got a clue) Why my cutlass blue And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too It's a Midwest swang y'all It ain't gotta trip (it ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip 'Cause we do big thangs on the motherfuckin' hip I sport my beeper on my boots, that's why I be a buzz when I kick Maybe it's on my lips, it's chaos when I spit Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo' shit Keep a quarter of some shit, I'm the Pookey of the backyard All colors and all types like a junkyard High young boy with high young ways 'Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr Probably couldn't tell 'cause I ain't walkin' now hurr I got a old-school cutlass, with a hole in the urr TV's urrwhurr wood grain to sturr I don't curr, hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr Ten and a half in the Air Force One's, give me two purr ugh I'm from the Lou and what I do is a Lou thang One rapper, two rings and three chains Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V12 horses Saddle up and put spurs on my Air Force's Back porches made for hide and go seek We got space out here, we can ride and chief Ain't gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin' us By the time they catchin' up, we smokin' up And my eyes be red, my lips a lil' dark St. Louis sportin' the rams, cards and lil' arch My dirty's love to spark, and love to sparkle Love homies vocal coats with matchin' cargos We racin' down Skinker, see how fast a car go Granny be like, "Ay, ya ya" like Ricky Ricardo I know you wanna know why we do what we do You cats it ain't got a clue why the cutlass blue Brand new 22's on new UP's With one, two, three, four, five TV's It's a Midwest thang y'all And it ain't got a clue (it ain't got a clue) Why my Cutlass blue And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too It's a Midwest swang y'all It ain't gotta trip (it ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip 'Cause we do big thangs on the motherfuckin' hip I'm sittin' on the front porch, writin' a hood rhyme Waitin' on my connect to deliver that good line Wish I would find, one seed in my weed Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen Two stay hittin' some blunts and Heineken Hidin' in the back with the po' po' Stickin' my do' do', man they some ho' hoo's They put the gun to my ear You know the law don't fear Nann nigga, nann hoe, let's keep that bullshit clear They had me face down in the skreet E'rybody watchin', thinkin' I'ma pull the heat And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet And that pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD Beat the K, fuck Coke, now I'm back on my granny poche hustlin' It's a Midwest thang y'all And it ain't got a clue (it ain't got a clue) Why my cutlass blue And I got them thangs on that motherfucker too It's a Midwest swang y'all It ain't gotta trip (it ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip 'Cause we do big thangs on the motherfuckin' hip It's a Midwest thang y'all It's a Midwest thang y'all It's a Midwest thang
Writer(s): Robert Cleveland, Cornell Haynes, Ali Jones, Jason Epperson, Tohri Harper Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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