Letra de canción descargada de: https://www.albumcancionyletra.com ------------------------------------------ Outkast - Two dope boyz in a cadillac ------------------------------------------ [Verse One: Big Boi, Andre] From the bottom of my lungs a nigga be blowin, spittin his game Comin up on ya from the South, the A-T-Liens aint changed Cooler than most players claim to be A nigga that´s from the A-Town see The home of the Bankhead Bounce, Campbellton Road and other city streets Enough of the verality, fallacy, butter we speak not fiction Speakin of pullin yo´ girl lookin at Jheri curls you bitches Everytime I ryhme for y´all, I´m lookin to prove a point kickin a freestyle every now and then but mostly off the joint See I smoke good cuz see it go good wit them flows, why the nigga the B-I-G like Tony Rich nobody knows why but me and my folks, cuz yall niggas jokes like the joker I´m sick of these wack ass rappers like I´m tired of hoes in chokers Who dem boyz that be havin the cronk every occasion This side niggaz dustin, that side niggaz lacin But in the middle we stay calm, we just drop bombs askin where we come from...South Post Lodge [Chorus:] Its Just Two Dope Boyz In A Cadillac [2x] [Verse Two: Andre, Big Boi] This ol sucka MC stepped up to me Challenged Andre to a battle and I stood there patiently As he spit and stumbled over cliches, so called freestylin Whole purpose just to make me feel low, I guess you whylin I say look boi, I ain´t for that fuck shit; so fuck this Let me explain on this child style so you don´t miss I grew up to myself not round no park bench just a nigga bustin flows off in apartments Now who dem boyz that be havin the cronk every occasion This side niggaz dustin, that side niggaz lacin But in the middle we stay calm, we just drop bombs askin where we come from...South Post slums [Chorus] [Verse Three: Big Boi, Andre] It goes chromes to the Fleetwoods, Coups to the Villes Hittin Girbauds and off these flows we havin the playa chill In this atmosphere this ain´t no practice here we cuttin the fool now I´m doin ya at the house and throwin you out because I´m through now Don´t you love the way we clamin Bankhead, stankhead Lookin around the SWATS for the herb that´s never tainted Fainted when you heard the bourbon servin on the block And all you bitin indivuals need to check yourselfs and stop Yeah tight like nuts and bolts, sluts and hoes that get evicted I´m dealin wit Queens in my castle aint worth to risk it Now tricks be lookin at me like I´m they way up out the pro-jects Can´t put you on my payroll, and no I ain´t got no Rolex or no diamond at the exit with a sign sayin "We´ll rap for food" My face is bawled up cuz I ain´t in a happy mood While my partner got the squeegee and the windex Cuz somewhere in my life I done went wrong jus like a syntax Error, bring the terror to your dome like P.E. Prone to finish this out cuz this be a free-style Now who dem boyz that be havin the cronk every occasion this side niggaz dustin, that side niggaz lacin but in the middle we stay calm we just drop...