Nappy Roots ft. Jazze Pha - Awnaw Lyrics

Yeah, haha, Nappy Roots
Aw naw

Aw naw, hell naw, boy
Y'all done up and done it
Aw naw, hell naw, boy
Y'all done up and done it
Aw naw, hell naw, boy
Man, y'all done up and done it (uh)
Y'all done up and done it (uh, come on)
Man, y'all done up and done it

My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hook (come on)
You hear me flippin' through my pages out my favorite notebook (yeah)
The microphone was in the closet (What?) No headphones, we lost it
Niggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin over the faucets
No AC, Tez'll break a sweat just tryin to make beats
E-dubz was being a hustler (hey, man)
Flirtin' with all his customers and flat broke
Nappy smokin blacks out on the back porch
I'm thinkin', I got everything a country boy could ask for (yeah)

Now what we do to get here? (Say that, boy)
Lay it down and bring it to you raw (Say that, boy)
Hey now, we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for
Hated for the cussin', but the hatred it made us cuss more
Held on when it was hard, stepped up, took charge
Ran through what we scared of, but what was we afraid for?
Look at what we made of, hard times done made us
Being here is alright, but must believe we won't fall

Them country boys on the rise
With them big fat wheels on the side
Peep them vertical grills on the ride
And aw-aw-aw-aw

Aw naw, hell naw, boy (them country boys)
Y'all done up and done it
Aw naw! Hell naw, boy (with them big fat wheels)
Y'all done up and done it (peep the vertical grills)
Aw naw, hell naw, boy
Man, y'all done up and done it (and aww)
Y'all done up and done it
Man, y'all done up and done it

My yegga, we hog wild, bet that from that roota to that toota-file
Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles
Kentucky mud, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred-spokes
Skullied on that front porch, plus you know they got 'dro
Seventy-nine Coupe DeVille vertical Caddy grill
Interstate 65, headin' down to Cashville
Glass filled, to the tippy-top, backseat Benz
Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints
A damn shame, gotta grind anything and everything
Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane
A long time, a gravel road, to cash and fame and sold my soul
To hell and back, and back and forth, with same jeans and nappy 'fro

As I hop off the Harley, smoke pot like Bob Marley
Block parties with shawties, wilin' like they swallowin' Bacardi
Them butter-skin, Prophit gutter like kin
Understand, you 'bout to lose your life fuckin' with them

Them country boys on the rise
With them big fat wheels on the side
Peep them vertical grills on the ride
And aw-aw-aw-aw

Aw naw, hell naw, boy (them country boys)
Y'all done up and done it
Aw naw, hell naw, boy (with them big fat wheels)
Y'all done up and done it (peep the vertical grills)
Aw naw, hell naw, boy
Man, y'all done up and done it (and aw)
Y'all done up and done it
Man, y'all done up and done it