Nelly, St. Lunatics - Dem Boyz lyrics

Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them niggas' back
I hear them boys coming dirty
Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them bitches' back
I hear them boys coming

Who am I you ask me
You know it's 'bout that grammar
From any state, it don't matter
From here to Montana
From white girls named Anna to
Old ladies named Nanna
They holding up their banners and
Running with their cameras
Can I get a flick, you're damn right, miss
"Can I take a hit", "Here, boo
Like this"
Chronic's sticky like gum
I guess that's how it comes
Don't worry 'bout my funds


I play around it in one
When you've seen that Hummer but
That was last summer
This year I'm more blunter
More up close and personal
It's just gon' get worse now
From Prada to Vokal
The Tics are too versatile
Can't worry 'bout certain sounds
That come out these haters' mouths
I realize they can't help it
Just stay where you're bowing down some more
You can't get these pounds
Unless you gon' smoke it now
If not
I suggest you pack your shit up
And head out of town

Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them niggas' back
I hear them boys coming dirty
Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them bitches' back
I hear them boys coming

They be like, "Hold up, hold up, hold
Up, I know that ain't them
Man"
Murp jersey on backwards with
Old school Tim's
And Kyjuan's got on so many
Colors just like a pimp
Nelly's chain's so long
Got him walking with a limp
Ali is throwing money in the front row
And her body's screaming slow down but where
The hell is Slo of course
We be them up, close, live, and in person
Might look like the type that
Be robbing them purses
But I ain't, I'm the young dude
I be rhyming them verses
Worked hard since ninety-three
That's how I got signed to Universal
Now the girlies take their thongs off
And it be crazy in the club
When that Lunatic song go off
I be that 'pull up right beside you
Beating bad' type of Tic
I'm a 'hold up traffic to touch
Her ass' type of Tic
Lunatic, that's what I am
That's what I said I am
I'm trying to be a millionaire, I bet I am
I bet I am

It's them boys' on them Porches
In Air Forces reading Sources
My choice is old school's
Over them Rolls Royce's
Of course
This Tic shit live like EA Sports is
Dribble in the club
I lay up with two draft choices
Hit the center, touch the point guard
She hit the joint hard
Oh, wee, oh Lord, she don't want no more
Cutlass is four door, stash for the four-four
Smokes' one four-four's
What them oh's go for
Three-fifty's one more
Three-fifty stick in the floor
Brand new Azure smashes
G's and C's all in my glasses
'Tics fantastic
We get booked more than matches
Imagine me without them two headbands
Them Vokal t-shirts with some
Eight class pants
Feeling dapper like Dan, yes
Fresh like Mannie
Cutlass candies sit down
You know you can't stand me

Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them niggas' back
I hear them boys coming dirty
Like, oh, better get them back
Watch them bitches' back
I hear them boys coming

Band Aids, Braids, Bald Heads, Fades, Locs
Stripey socks, rocks in the watch
Big shorts
(shorts)
Headband to a cross-jersey back Ross (Ross)
That's that mid-west talk
I think your future boss' Batter Up
No, cough
And let you know Caprice
Classic's on these hoes
For big shows, tell her, best be on they toes
Five Country Grammar boys
In bandanas, platinum
No gold like oh
That's what they say when I pull up
On d's in that old Dr J
Old 88, fat laces, this world is rat races
Heading back places but it still seems racist
Got locations so I haul off the wall
Off if you could fall off
Got a room at the Wada with a
Saw that'll take the wall off
Hit the mall off with a sag, hockey jersey
Do rag
Fitted still, switching two different shoes
Starchy with tags

Like, oh