Ludacris - Southern Gangsta (co-starring Rick Ross, Playaz Circle and Ving Rhames) lyrics

[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+