Nappy Roots - No Good lyrics

(B Stille) Yooooo! I said Yooooo! For all them industry haters that said we couldn't do it... This for my country thug street yeagas! You know we gon' [Hook] Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good Yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should Folk round here be up to no good [Verse 1] (Skinny Deville) My yeaga lookin like one of them days I got a Franklin in my pocket, with this lint like a slave And 20 cent to my name, tryna make this crime pay Money spent, Ben gone, left me with the Hamil-ton Window tint, same ol' song Lincoln on a sack, with the fifty-dat Bump my song, Get drunk, get it crunk Country-fried, pack a blunt Erything tight, Volume 2 off in the trunk, bump In a slump, head-shot got me pumped like a gauge Turn the page, flip the script Hit the script jump, shorty with the dump In the hatchback, a** fat Nickel bag of funk, caught a skunk in a rat trap Sat back, hit it once, hit it twice, pa** that Mashed-out, Fleetwood, Cadillac, headed South Woodgrain, Pure Grain, hold it in and let it out Bouncin' like a bunny hunny, tell the shorty set it out Get in where we fit in, we gon' try our best to sell it out [Hook 2x] [Verse 2] (B Stille) We makes it hot for 'em, feel the flames Who seperate the real from lames Yeaga B Stille's his name (Where you from?) The Ville, LaGrange, to Mills and Fane Look how far Louisville's done came! Now break it down I like my pockets fat And my weed green And my liquor brown And my hens clean With they panties down And a beat that keep my yeagas bouncin, bouncin, bouncin, bouncin Check, check My mic vocals, is like choke-holds Fetch the billfold that my cheese is in And purchase a nickel to help me breathe again I'm from a place where blood spills and stains Filled with drug deals and gangs Yeagas with gold grills and thangs Drink up, fill ya tanks, spill ya drinks It's Nappy, dawg, untamed Southern slang, unchanged We sendin' slugs through ya brain (f** what you know, good) And all my thugs, for the sane [Hook 2x] [Verse 2] (Fish Scales) A cool cat, with a pimp hat Cup fulla Gin-Jack Dreaded out, throwin up deuces When I'm headed out Slice it up and bet it out, 5-0-4 Throw the prices up and set it out Real n***as never doubt Swerve to the calico, give me a deuce of that Make it 2 of that, pack a tip, flush a Optimo Keep the change, got to go Flirt, tryna talk dirty Georgia-bred, you can tell by my Hawk jersey Hit me up if you get off early Then I dap out, so clean Yo honey actin' mo' mean Napped-out, momma asking me "What's all that 'bout?" Say I got big plans, look slim but mapped-out Country boy with country game Never spittin' nothin' lame Get paid to rap, still a dap like ain't nothin' changed My sh** stay Nappy, split ends stay happy Bad threads must've came from his pappy [Hook until end]