OutKast – West Savannah (1998) | Track profile | Dork

OutKast – West Savannah (1998) | Track profile | Dork

Lyrics

West Savannah

Yeah, I'm back off in this - one mo' time
To drop this rhyme, 'bout where my roots at
Yeah, Westside is in the house
Frazier Homes is in the house
Cloverdale is in the house
And Savannah, GA is in the house, so check it

February 1st, 1975 it happened
Was born in West Savannah way before I started rappin'
My momma had a - at the age of 15
My daddy was sellin' that sack, now he's gots responsibilities
Stayed at me granny's while me mammy was at work
And she couldn't watch my every move so sh-, I started servin'
Around Frazier Home, down in the West Side projects
Changin' over food stamps, and hittin' a lick was next, see
I'm just a player like that, my jeans was sharply creased
I got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed East

So flyin', or floatin', a Brougham is what I'm sportin'
Sade is in my tape deck, I'm movin' in slow motion, boy
So meet me deep in the streets that's where I learned the capers
Us lickin' blunts, lickin' leaves, rollin' - papers
I'm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucket
But the - around the ave, and the (what?) They love me (yeah)
They wanna be me and my family too

Because the money that I make be puttin' cable off in every room
So follow the fiends, follow my lead through the nooks and crannies
It's every day life off in my hood so come and holla at me
But go 'head on, with that foolishness, bitch
Let me get lovely with my swerve because I'm true to this -
And if you comin' with eight dollars, - out of luck
Because the West Side ain't takin' no shorts on the dime
So fire it up

Now now now
.9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(Like that now, like this, and it don't quit, and it don't stop)
.9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh)

See, - in the South wear gold teeth and gold chains
Been doin' it for years, so these rookies ain't gon' change
They comin' around the ghetto so you might call 'em soul
Been wearin' furry Kangol's, so that sh- is old
You might slang a rock or two just to pay the rent
Five dollars for a table dance so now your money's spent

You listen to that booty shake music in your trunk
As long as there's that "Tic-tic" followed by that "Bump"
I'm down to stick a - if she got a G-strang
Cause the - in the Pointe ain't changed, mane
You might call us country, but we's only Southern
And I don't give a -, P-Funk spot to spark another

Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(Like that now, like this, and it don't stop, and it don't quit)
.9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh)
Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh)

.9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(Like that and uh, like this, and it don't stop
And it don't quit, it's like that and uh)
Now, now, now, .9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!
(And it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and uh)
.9 in my hand, ounce in my crotch
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mhm!

Lyrics provided by LRCLIB