[Pharrell] You ready to do this, nigga? You ready to come down here? It's Virginia, nigga... We do this in broad daylight... It's a whole different degree of homicide, nigga... You ready?
[Chorus: Pusha T & (Pharrell)] I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?) Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?) Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?) So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pusha T] In my "Home Sweet Home" I keep chrome next to my bones Alters my walk to limpin' Since I love the feel, I guess I'm passionately pimpin' It 'tis what it seems That thing imprintin' through the seams of my jeans, by all means Lost it all, from lives to love Put my faith in my money, help me rise above See I turned to the Lord when them times got tough Bullied through streets, powder I pushed and shoved In that ole' Virginey Out of ten niggas, nine are guinea No money, all they know is gimme, got semis waitin' Heat like Caribbean summers, I been there Each year, a diffferent bitch wonder Who wing she gon' fall under, Push' or Mal' Ganga grinds, wit' me, with thoughts of fuckin' them cross her mind Look ma, that's right up my alley I love my family, I want them all happy In Virginia, we smirked at that Simpson trial Yeah, I guess the chase was wild But what's the fuss about? See, plenty my partners feelin' like O.J. Beat murder like the shit is OK, that's what our door say Talk the evil that men do, I'm lost in the mental I miss you Shampoo, we miss you Shampoo And your grams, too... [Pharrell] My nigga... Fo sho...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)] I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?) Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?) Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?) So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Malice] Seem like they all got a comment to make In regards to my paper, now they guessin' my weight They fast to predict the outcome of my fate Wonderin' 'bout Clipse and if they got what it take Malice, he think he hard, tough guy of the clique And Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shit You right on both counts, bitch, Clipse is us And there are some things that you don't discuss Don't ask me 'bout the Neptunes and what's they fair Don't ask about the loud screamin' chick with the hair Don't ask about my music, and how that's comin' 'bout Don't ask about my album, or when's it comin' out 'Cause I feel like you really being funny on the slide Now face down, layin' on your tummy, or you die I tried being humble, humble get no respect Now the first sign of trouble, that's a hole up in your neck Plus, what I look like spendin' my nights in jail I could never be a thug, they don't dress this well I reside in VA, ride in VA Most likely when I die, I'm gon' die in VA Virginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate here For out-of-towners, who think that they gon' move weight here Ironic, the same same place I'm makin' figures at That there's the same land they used to hang niggas at, in Virginia...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)] I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?) Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?) Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?) So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pharrell] Young'n... (Talk about, what?) This is real, young'n... (Talk about, what?) You lookin' into a whole different world, young'n (Talk about, what?) This is real... Live...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
