Flip Flop Rock
Lyrics
Yeah, ATLiens style on y'all ass
(Do or die, Aquemini)
(Killer Mike, Roc-A-Fella collaboration holla)
(Young Hov' in the place to be, Big Boi in the place to be)
(Andre 3000, shout out to public housin') (cash) (bitch)
(I brought the whole hood with me)
You got red dirt in your Afro
(Young Hov' in the place to be) (yeah)
(Outkast in the place to be) (yeah)
Did you ever think that you would be the nigga on the block?
Didn't have to break a steerin' column, didn't have to cook a rock
A damn goodie two-shoes, that what they call ya
Never judge a person or a book by it's covers
Just because my tone is darker than yours, a little tanner
You never took the time out, examine yourself Boi
Are you black, white, asian?
Indonesian, or Borean-that's black and Korean
We on the same team if we breathin'
I jumped off the subject to see if you was seein'
That we drop a little science off in every verse
They put that P.A. sticker on it 'cause they scared we gon' curse
But the knowledge is the power, the cowards get devoured
Any hour, any cipher, any way to any height
Because I might just snap on a fuck-ass nigga
Might clap a cap at a sucker-ass nigga
In the meantime, Daddy Fat sacks gon' chill out
He might just, pull out his pistol
And let that thing whistle at your windshield or your residence
Superman to Clark Kent, you better be way harder
Than the park bench to start this
Marcus, Jason, my little brother James
All my brothers from my momma but Andre is just the same
Ain't no uno, we a duo, deuce dos to a pair
A player stiffen the competition
Pressed like Levi's toughskins, on minus one
Negative one minus negative one is nothin'
Bustin' d-boy raps and player poems
The 'Kast shit ain't plastic, we smash it and move the crowd
And rock the crowd original material while you bore 'em
Your life show consists of eveybody's shit but you're owns
Do you own shit, in your life show (bitin' ass nigga)
Young Hov' in the place to be
Big Boi in the place to be (young)
Andre 3000 (cash) shout out to public housing (bitch)
I brought (holla) the whole hood with me (yeah, yeah)
Young Hov' in the place to be
Big Boi in the place to be (young)
Andre 3000 (cash) shout out to public housing (bitch)
I brought (holla) the whole hood with me (yeah, yeah)
Penelope Ann Cruz couldn't snooze
With her Eye's Wide Shut, before I asked to hit her gut
If you brunette, Legally Blonde, I might respond
Take you to Swan Lake, and beyond
Antwan raps on, raps on, clap off clop on
I switch the flow so quick you cannot fathom
I take a submarine two thousand leagues below the sea
And try to grab one line or sentence
Rhyme repentance, find the illest lyricist
And give him a clean bill of health
Wealth might make you look good but you sound like shit
And your team looking shitty to death
My nigga Big Boi said, "Watch 'em as they gawk and they gander"
You can follow or lead like Commander Picard
You can have The Whole World
Or be satisfied with the boulevard, over stand
This young player's line
I forego the crime and I focused on rhyme
Focused on every word, and line
Like a young Cassius Clay in his prime
I was born to talk shit and prove mine, and I'm
The epitome of raw rhyme
Got signed, got serious about the craft
Of raw rhyme and I got mine, Aquemini's
Murderous monster, move minds
Did it so hard that it oughta be a crime
When you see I'm comin' holla one-time, holla one-time
When you see I'm comin' holla one-time (one-time)
Young Hov' in the place to be
Big Boi in the place to be (young)
Andre 3000 (cash) shout out to public housing (bitch)
I brought (holla) the whole hood with me (yeah, yeah)
Young Hov' in the place to be
Big Boi in the place to be (young)
Andre 3000 (cash) shout out to public housing (bitch)
I brought (holla) the whole hood with me (yeah, yeah)
Don't, you, like, to groove
In your hooptie on your old, flip, flop, sweat shoes
To run yo' tennis shoes
Don't, it, matter to you
That Outkast we got that skunk for y'all
Keep that pump for y'all
When I'm in the mood I rock the S Dot tennis shoes
As a interlude, I got the Gucci flip-flops
And I, fix it up like gin and juice when I'm them interviews
Dudes want to know what he copped
And where you got that? And how could they buy that?
Where the million dollar watch at, stop that
Why that, why this, niggas want to hijack the flyness
I'm on a whole 'nother plane
A whole different lane, a whole 'nother game that I'm playin'
Understand what I'm sayin'
Hov' and Outkast, what you think about that?
Really don't matter though what you niggas chatter though
Anybody get out of line then you trust
That the Mac'll go brrap, got you killed for that alone
Back on the shit back on the strip
Another hit I'm not goin' miss
Don't, you, like, to groove
In your hooptie on your old, flip, flop, sweat shoes
To run yo' tennis shoes
Don't, it, matter to you
That Outkast we got that skunk for y'all
Keep that pump for y'all (yeah, yeah)
Writer(s): Shawn Carter, Antwan Patton, Michael Santiago Render, David A. Sheats, David Sheats, Michael Render
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, O/B/O CAPASSO
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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