Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Robert Cooper, Earl Patrick Houston, Jordan Houston, Lola Mitchell
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Three 6 MafiaLand Of The Lost Lyrics:
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
To start it off I'm the motherfuckin' lady about her cheese
While you other Herman Benz out there leavin' fo' free
Kinda quick to tell you what I'm gonna get and it be true
At the end of the rainbow, nigga, I thought you knew
'Cuz I'm sayin' all my hustlas don't forgot I'm on the green
Got a pocket full of money not no stones, know what I mean?
Don't get mad 'cuz yo ass livin' broke
Fuck that, get up off yo lazy ass
Get about yo fuckin' scratch
I'm chasin' Franklin wit' my Triple 6 thugs 'cuz we was sinners
I get deeper, I'm still comin' up with lint
Livin' in a tent, some trick gotta change, it ain't the same
And it's plain to see I ain't the same man
Beat a bitch, Rob a hoe, kick in does from doe to doe
Prophet posse never sloppy, clean you out from roof to flo'
I'm startin' to stinkin', raisin' my heartbeat to never be rich
Rather trade a hoe for mackers dis predemption
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
It's on, why you shakin'? Whatcha wanna do?
I gotta 357 brand new shootin' holes through
Niggas skulls fool, let's get da dope and drop it off
And count them G's and smoke some cheese
It pays to brake the law
My cousin creepin' all them graded boys gonna hook us up
To make a grip on that white shit that we don't see or touch
Fuck what you talkin' about? We slangin', nigga
By any means you wanna stop the team we pull the trigga
Red, red, go away 'cuz a nigga wanna play
Leave me here, chiefin hey, standin' till the last day, you can
Let me wear a briefcase in my situation
So many smilin' faces about the devil that's in me racin'
Place in here's a motherfucker my nigga I tell ya what
When I was in the jail while my killa was in da cut
All because of this high powered, coward
Bustin' that I heat up, musta been in love, wanna fill me with slugs
It's crunchy black, crunchy black on da creep, nigga
How you niggas out here gonna laugh and fuckin' giggle?
When I'm gettin' bigga and bigga, bigga den a fuckin' picture
Picture me in yo dreams when I'm out, ta fuckin' getcha
Hit ya fo' ya dividends and fled from da fuckin' case
Don't drop no pieces so I, want catch a case
Make a mistake in dis game and man you'll hafta pay
Deep in the jail cell or holy cell, never see the day
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game, tryin' ta stack some change
Land of the lost full of gangstas 'n' killas
Niggas all about they damn scrilla
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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