Nappy Roots - No Good lyrics

[B Suntile]
Yooooo!
I said Yooooo!
For all them industry haters that said we could not do it...
This for my country thug street yeahgas!
You know we gon´

[Hook]
Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk´ll make a country yeahga sleep good
Yo´ hood, my hood, tote heat, sho´ should
Folk round here be up to no good

[Verse 1]
[Skinny Deville]
My yeahga 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 & 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 Suntile]
We makes it hot for ´em, feel the flames
Who seperate the real from lames
Yeahga B Suntile´s his name
(Where you from?)
The Ville, LaGrange, to Mills & 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 yeahgas 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 am from a place where blood spills & stains
Filled with drug deals & gangs
Yeahgas with gold grills & thangs
Drink up, fill ya tanks, spill ya drinks
It is Nappy, dawg, untamed
Southern slang, unchanged
We sendin´ slugs through ya brain
(F*ck 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 am headed out
Slice it up & bet it out, 5-0-4
Throw the prices up & 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 aint nothin´ changed
My shit stay Nappy, split ends stay happy
Bad threads must´ve came from his pappy

[Hook till end]

Nappy Roots Ringtones