Ludacris, Ving Rhames, Rick Ross, Playaz Circle - Southern Gangsta lyrics

He's a hustler, unbound by law
A self made millionaire
With a wreckless disregard for the haters
Ludacris, on "Southern Gangsta"
A true entrepre-negro
CEO of Disturbing Tha Peace Records
He expanded his empire into
Multiple profitable businesses
Including his Thai food restaurant, Strait's
Internet sites, WeMixcom
And my favorite, MyGhettocom
The MVP of this rap shit

Luda! I'm a hustler, BALLER, gangsta
CAP PEELER i stay strapped like your
Neighborhood trap dealer
I got rifles that blow ya below ya bible belt
And mac-11's that leave you
Wetter than Michael Phelps! (woo)
But you'll be swimmin with the fishes
Softer than bitches washin dishes
Fool what's the BUSINESS?
I'm already rich, so talk mo' figures (yup)
Spit 30 large for cigars of you ho niggas
(oww) i got gangstas that'll rearrange
Ya whole face and put your casket on ice
Now that's a cold case (ha)
Never forget where you come or
That block'll bang you i keep my ear to the
STREETS like a cocker spaniel
I cock and blast you into outer space
Break every bone in ya, you so out of place
Boom without a trace, you a bluff to block
I got some red beams
Let's play connect the dots!

He's the biggest boss
Comin outta the M-I yayo
Straight from the "Port of Miami"
To keepin it "Trilla"
Involved in many heated acts of violence
This goes deeper than rap shit
He's worth eight figures
So young niggas, boss up
I present to you, Rick Ross, the boss

I got a letter from the government
The other day i opened and read it
It said "We were hustlers"
Had a Lexus at 18, picture that
Got a Chevy with pictures on
It from pitchin crack
Bitch I know Haitians, we speakin Creole
Bitch I'm a D-boy, still slingin kilos
I got twenty cars, why exaggerate?
It cost me five grand just
To fill the gas tanks
Love the marble floors, got the Greek pillrs
Frontin at awards, real street niggas
I used to serve shake, now I serve steaks
Three squares on a row, call it 3rd Bass
Get the Gas Face, chopper in your laugh face
Shoot his ass, aim defense is the last case
Keep Jewish friends, the newest Benz
You in a pool of blood, let me see you swim

Hailing from College Park, Georgia
Authorities figured they must have been
Some sort of mob or illegal organization
According to authorities
They made a quarter mil' a week
Selling mid-grade
They were some high-rollin hustlers
Tity Boi, and Dolla Boy
Playaz Circle, AKA, the Duffle Bag Boys

Uhh, I'm so sick I wrote
This verse in a hospital
It's an election year, I support strippers
We roll like bicycles, icicle flow
White liquor
My nigga stay on line with the blow
I'm on time with the flow
Not a minute nor second late
Ain't no such thing as second place
And every day I live heavyweight
You niggas featherweight
Fairytale tellin niggas really need
To take a break
And the estate got a lake for a backyard
The pool room product put it
All on my sacks card for real?
(yeah, for real) I'm ill, I deal, I did
I will i got dogs like Cujo
Me and Tity two chains ridin in a two do'
Bitches catch kudos (you know)
Yeah we move weight like sumos
And kicks it with them bitches like judo
SOUTHSIDE!

Playaz Circle, Rick Ross, Ludacris
This has been another episode
Of "Southern Gangsta"
Thanks for tunin in, what's next for Luda?
Well, anything's possible
In the Theater of the Mind