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Lyrics |
They say Alabama’s on that slow time, fine with me. I need a Yellow Hammer so I can slow Grind. (It’s my swagger) Sweet like a Georgia peach, seen the A from Freaknik to the resurrection of I-20 East. (Play that track) And let me ride to it, (turn the radio up) And let my folks get work to it (play it back) and watch me walk to it, it ain’t the name on my jeans, it’s the way my booty sit in em. The best of the south. The Peach state fed me, cotton state clothed me, never hold or control me, unless that’s the game we playing. Um a country southern Bama Belle, City fellas be saying. (It’s her swagger) If he don’t know what it is, but you giving him chills, ain’t even gave him the biz, tell him. (It’s my swagger) Ladies as long as you stay fresh, ain’t pressed, got your swagger, then you ain’t got to tell him. Wonder why they breaking they neck? My swaggerWonder why I ain’t gotta keep em in check? My swaggerWonder why they keep calling my name? My SwaggerNo sex no love no games…. My Swagger Now I been deep in the sin, but I ain’t drown in it. Read a good book so I could try and swim through it. So I can, live in the sky. Dope boys’ll change they ways because um makin em high. Church boys be prayin they can change me, cause when I do it’ll be like. Mary mother in light, Mary mother at night. Holy war’ll be a part of me like a street fight. Call me the prototype, grade A ladylike. Bonafide in a wife B and jeans. Sundress and sandals cute, no love handles. Black pik with the fist handle. Know my heritage, but not a militant. Like sojourner. Ain’t I woman. But if you push me I know where them yellow hammers at. Leo, lioness, queen, but um such a cool cat. Make a G wish he was on the receiving end of that. |