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Correct Ova Da Wudz Lyrics
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OutKast
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Correct Ova Da Wudz
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Something's gotta give! Yeah you know what I'm sayin? Uhh Herring homes unh martel homes carver homes tekwood Martin luther king bankhead Verse One: Big Boi Under cover over da hills and thru tha woods I go Like green lights a southern nigga that's comin fo' yo' throat But not no guillotine see we be them southern playas Remember the football socks aerobic Reeboks and Decaturs now You up to par and ready for yo lesson I got an ounce of dank and a couple of drinks so let's crank up a session Like Tri-City high school, was pullin em in a broke down Rabbit I spit a couple of words and layin em down was just a habit Just like smokey, choking off da pee-wee that we rolled up Talkin about the click will get you laid down hella swoled up Hootie hoo slapped ya boyz across the cheek wit Isotoners And went to tell yo momma and yo pop that you was a goner Tell em Big Boi did it; I swear that nigga be rhymin Every lyric that he spit be turnin charcoals into Diamonds and Pearls Girl when you givin up them draws, cause I got a couple of niggaz down the hall That wanna hit it too, I'm not the type to be actin selfish Set it out and let it out and I'll be right back just like Elvis Cause the postman rings twice... Hey Mr. Postman.... Chorus: repeat 2X Power, power, I come gimme some Tha deadly voice over drums, we from, atl Put tha swats swats on yo' car Let's travel far, tha southern star shines Verse Two: Dre Everybody wanna get signed, but (here to tell you) Record companies act like pimps Gettin paid off what we made when we the ones that's fly like blimps But ain't no Goodyear, I tell it like it is so I'm like look here Just willin to get what I deserve my kids to have a mother And a little house, with a dog in the backyard goin "woof-woof" Who knows what I'ma say soon's I leave this recording booth Poof, back in the real world where birds fly From Miami by way of Cuba to whoever wants to get that high There's clouds of clowns, seas of G's Pro-jects, packed with playas meditating on their knees Just to make them ends meet, like ground beef, you won't believe The shit that niggaz attempt cause they got other mouths to feed Besides they own Chorus Verse Three: Big Boi There's some hoes in this house, damn right I'm thinkin about the way you skull me, guzz me Suckin me dry like deserts Mojave, Gotti, hotties and honeydips Likin the way you do me, screw me it make my money flip Shakin that ass for daddy puttin this gas off in my Cadi-llac Back, don't ever snap, packin the gats and pimpin whores Hors d'oevres, swerve, hit the curb because I'm reckless Back in the days when I was broke I'd snatch your fuckin necklace You ol' pussy-ass nigga... Yeah
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