[Intro: Ving Rhames]
He's a hustler, unbound by law
A self-made, millionaire
With a wreckless disregard, for the haters
Ludacris, on "Southern Gangsta"...
A true, entrepre-negro
CEO of Disturbing The Peace Records
He expended his empire into multiple profitable businesses
Including his Thai food restaurant, Straits
The MVP, of this rap sh**
[Ludacris]
Luda! I'm a hustler, BALLER, gangsta, CAP PEELER
I stay strapped like your neighborhood trap dealer
I got rifles that blow ya below ya bible belt
And mac-11's that leave you wetter than Michael Phelps! (woo!)
But you'll be swimmin with the fishes
Softer than b**hes washin dishes, fool what's the BUSINESS?
I'm already rich, so talk mo' figures (yup)
Spit 30 large for cigars of you hoe n***as (oww!)
I got gangstas that'll rearrange ya whole face
And put your casket on ice, now that's a cold case (ha!)
Never forget where you come or that block'll bang you
I keep my ear to the STREETS like a co*ker spaniel
I co*k and blast you, into outer space
Break every bone in ya, you so out of place
Boom without a trace, you a bluff to block
I got some red beams, let's play connect the dots!
[Interlude: Ving Rhames]
He's the biggest boss, comin outta the M-I-yayo
Straight from the "Port of Miami"
To keepin it "True"
Involved in many heated acts of violence
This goes deeper than rap sh**
He's worth eight figures
So young n***as, boss up
I present to you, Rick Ross, the boss
[Rick Ross]
I got a letter from the government, the other day
I opened and read it, it said "We want hustlers"
Had a Lexus at 18, picture that
Got a Chevy with pictures on it from pitchin crack
b**h I know Haitians, we speakin Creole
b**h I'm a D-boy, still slingin kilos
I got twenty cars, why exaggerate?
It cost me five grand just to fill the gas tanks
Love the marble floors, got the Greek pillows
Frontin at awards, real street n***as
I used to serve shake, now I serve steaks
Three squares on the road, call it 3rd Ba**
Big a** face, chop you in your laugh face
Shoot his a**, aim defense is the last case
Keep Jewish friends, the newest Benz
You in a pool of blood, let me see you swim
[Interlude: Ving Rhames]
Hailing from College Park, Georgia
Authorities figured they must have been some sort of mob
Or illegal organization
According to authorities, they made a quarter mil' a week
Selling {?}, they were some high-rollin hustlers
Tity Boi, and Dolla Boy
Playaz Circle, A.K.A., the Duffle Bag Boys
[Tity Boi] + (Dolla Boy)
Uhh, I'm so sick I wrote this verse in a hospital
It's an election year, I support strippers
(We roll like bicycles, icicle flow)
(White liquor, my n***a stay on line with the blow)
I'm on time with the flow, not a minute nor second late
Ain't no such thing as second place
(And every day I live heavyweight, you n***as featherweight)
(Fairytale tellin n***as really need to take a break)
And the estate got a lake for a backyard
(The pool room product put it all on my sacks card)
For real? (Yeah, for real)
I'm ill, I deal, I did, I will
(I got dogs like Cujo, me and Tity two chains ridin in a two do')
b**hes catch kudos (you know)
Yeah we move weight like sumos
And kicks it with them b**hes like judo
SOUTHSIDE!
[Outro: Ving Rhames]
Playaz Circle, Rick Ross, Ludacris
This has been another episode, of "Southern Gangsta"
Thanks for tunin in, what's next for Luda?
Well, anything's possible, in the +Theater of the Mind+