Aw Naw Lyrics - Watermelon, Chicken And Gritz - Nappy Roots

Yo, ha ha Nappy Roots 

Awnaw 

Awnaw, hell naw, boy 

Man, y'all done up and done it 

Awnaw, hell naw, boy 

Y'all done up and done it 

Awnaw, hell naw, boy 

Man, y'all done up and done it 

Ah, y'all done up and done it 

Man, y'all done up and done it 

My first song was like forty-eight bars with no hook 

You hear me flippin' through my pages out my favorite notebook 

The microphone was in the closet, what? No headphones, we lost it 

Niggas scared to get some water, roaches hangin' over the faucets 

No AC, Tez'll break a sweat just tryin' to make beats 

E-Dubz was being a hustler, hey man 

Always flirtin' with all his customers and flat broke 

Nappy smokin' blacks out on the back porch 

I'm thinkin' I got everything a country boy could ask for 

Now, what we do to get here? Say dat boy 

Lay it down and bring it to ya raw, say dat boy 

Hey now we hurt some, suffered for more, takes what we work for 

Hated for the cussin' but the hatred, it made us cuss more 

Held on but it was hard, stepped up, took charge 

Ran through what we scared of but what was we afraid for? 

Look at what we made of, hard times done made us 

Being here is alright but must believe we want more 

Them country boys on the rise 

With them big fat wheels on the side 

Peep them vertical grills on the ride 

And aww 

Them country boys 

(Awnaw, hell naw, man, y'all done up and done it) 

With them big fat wheels 

(Awnaw, hell naw, boy, y'all done up and done it) 

Peep the vertical grills 

(Awnaw, hell naw, boy, man, y'all done up and done it) 

And aww 

(Y'all done up and done it, man, y'all done up and done it) 

My yegga, we hogwild, bet that from that buddha to that toota-file 

Hell naw, them country boys ain't headed south for six miles 

Kentucky mud, them kinfolk, twankies with them hundred-spokes 

Skullied on that front po'ch, plus you know they got 'dro 

Seventy-nine coupe DeVille vertical Caddy grill 

Interstate 65 headed down that Cashville 

Glass filled to the tippy-top, back-seat Benz 

Spent my last cent on the rent, left with pocket lints 

A damn shame, gotta grind anythang and everythang 

Jimmy Crack Corn, cross the county line with Mary Jane 

A long time, a gravel road to cash and fame and sold my soul 

To Hell and back and back and forth with same jeans and nappy 'fro 

I might, hop off the Harley, smoke mine like Bob Marley 

Block parties with shawties, wallin' like they swallowin' Bacardi 

Them butter skin, Prophit gutter like kin 

Understand you 'bout to lose ya life fuckin' with them 

Them country boys on the rise 

With them big fat wheels on the side 

Peep the vertical grills on the ride 

And aww 

Them country boys 

(Awnaw, hell naw, man, y'all done up and done it) 

With them big fat wheels 

(Awnaw, hell naw, boy, y'all done up and done it) 

Peep the vertical grills 

(Awnaw, hell naw, boy, man, y'all done up and done it) 

And aww 

(Y'all done up and done it, man, y'all done up and done it) 

Them country boys 

With them big fat wheels 

Peep the vertical grills 

And aww 

Them country boys 

With them big fat wheels 

Peep the vertical grills 

And aww 

Them country boys on the rise 

With them big fat wheels on the side 

Peep the vertical grills on the ride 

And aww 

Them country boys 

With them big fat wheels 

Peep the vertical grills 

And aww