This Goes Out

Yeah, yeah

What we have here? (What we have here?)

Does it mean all of our point? (Does it mean all of our point?)

No, sir (no, sir)

East and West (East and West)

So nice (okay)

Uh, yeah (oh-oh)

Uh, yeah (oh-oh)

This goes out to my Midwest crew

Now hold your M-Dub in the air if you feel me

Come all day, come all night

Candy paint on D's and fo's

Yo, ayo, I eat, sleep, —, rap hip-hop, kid, and nap

Snoop Dogg 'Lac with the diamond in the back

I rep it like a mayor, man

Something like a player, man

St. Louis cookin', and I'm Murphy Lee the killer, man

Hunt someone and lick 'em, make 'em salaam

Praise the Lord or say peace to God

I'm just a schoolboy, call me Mr. Do-What-You-Do-Fool

Claim where you're from, or we will claim where you move to

Home is where you make it, eat a meal and get naked

You could walk in your drawers, and nobody could say —

I got STL tatted on my right arm, some of them saw 'em

I ain't dyin', but yo, I'm definitely fightin' for 'em

And keep it tight for 'em, and keep it hype for 'em

And buy at the bar whatever gon' keep the night goin'

Do what you doin', and you doin' it, just do it big

And if you live to get it, then you gon' get it how you live, 'cause

This goes out to my West Coast crew

Now hold your dub up in the air if you feel me

Come all day, come all night

Hit the switch on your six fo's

Naps, rock, skit

West Coast style T-shirt, khaki lack

Swerve in the Cadillac

Young Roscoe, the black Burt Bacharach

Serve the sacks, flippin' skirts like acrobats

And I dip with you, —, I take you on a ride

Through that place known worldwide

It's the Westside (Westside)

Chronic, Daytons, switches, dubs

Cap turned to the back with skirts at the Caddy shack

Los Angeles, where they sag to the mud

Drop the back, let it drag, do-rags full of thugs

You're hard to the back, car full of "blat"

Why A's decay, we way hard, okay?

I rock a five double-O with the bubble nose

Stop, drop the top, I holla at a couple —

For sure, they want to roll with the Philly fanatic

Runnin' the radio in Cali 'cause I stay in the traffic

This goes out to my East Coast crew

Now hold your E's up in the air if you feel me

Come all day, come all night

Rock your hoodies and Timbo's

Yo, yo, step in the party like

Sippin' on Bacardi like

I hooked up with the 'Tics, they like

It's gettin' frisky for me (oh-oh)

Girls, they strippin' for me

Lil' Jon, you with us, homie? (okay)

I'm gettin' brainin', pimpin', I can't complainin'

It's crazy, I can't explain it; it's the Derrty Entertainment

Man, I like to stop and go; she like to mop and glow

Lovin' this track 'cause we gonna rock and roll

I huff and puff until my indo's gone

So I get to stompin' with my Timbo's on

We might be floppin', homie; we all critic

Welcome to Harlem World, AKA New York City

We forever runnin' 'round, here forever creepin'

Up all night 'cause, homie, we ain't never sleepin'

I came to do this with my derrty Murphy

Y'all —s better obey 'cause you can get it... (okay)

This goes out to my Dirty South crew

Now hold your S up in the air if you feel me

Come all day, come all night

If you're tempted to throw them bows

Throw your goddamn — up

Throw your goddamn — up

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen

And we gon' rock it to this —

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen

And we gon' rock it to this —

We represent that Dirty

We ain't expectin' no —

We represent that Dirty

We ain't expectin' no —

We wild out in the club

Same —, we don't give a —

We wild out in the club

Same —, we don't give a —

Lil' Weezy, —in' Baby, five-four-four

Four-five make a — go (oh-oh)

I'm a fly young —, whole South cold's great

Stay low and get cake, oh

Yeah, me no play, we can take it outside

Never met a — take my self-pride

It's Wizzy Wizzle, Southside guy

Outside fly, gutta-gutta in the South, wild five

I represent that money

I ain't scared to throw my — up

Soon as I throw it high up, holla back, Squire

I'm screwed up; I drive slow, not fast

Birdman Jr., I got stones, not cash, —

I'm from the swamp, I smoke dro, not grass

P.O.C. rolled on my hands, got a ninety—degree four in my pants

Give you this respect

I'm still mackin'; you can smell the Pimp Juice on my breath

Get your hands up, —

Throw your goddamn — up

Throw your goddamn — up

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen

And we gon' rock it to this —

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen

And we gon' rock it to this —

We represent that Dirty

We ain't expectin' no —

We represent that Dirty

We ain't expectin' no —

We wild out in the club

Same —, we don't give a —

We wild out in the club

Same —, we don't give a —