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​Southern Fried Intro

This song is by Ludacris and appears on the album Chicken-N-Beer (2003).

Hey, yeah, I want all you proud sistas to stand up
I want everybody to stand up and be counted tonight
Brothers and Sisters if you know you got your thing together
I want you to stand on up
Now I got somethin' to tell ya'
I told ya' how to think about it
Now I want to tell how to get the thing together
So come on now and get up to it y'all

The incredible untouchable nigga
Spittin' venom out his body with the dopest flows
And wonder why the lines around the corner
'Cause the little mothafucka has the dopest shows
The one time for my indipendant women
And all the single mothers that be gettin' that cake
Two times for my dawgs, my trigga's, and my nigga's,
In the kitchen that be feelin' that weight

East coast, West coast, Mid West, dirty South
Then we took it all around the world...
I got fans in retirement homes
The teenagers, to little bity boys and girls
Droppin' lyrical bombs up in your hood
Nonstop and I'm a hit em' till the block explodes
Hip hop, R & B, pop talk, what ya want?
I even got alittle rock and roll
The most creative original got 'em takin' subliminal (bang bang)
'Cause they can't get what I gots
They want it so bad
Four million dollar pad, and enough to retire off two albums
Go on, wave your white flags I'm hot!

And every time I rhyme I'm puttin' rappas in da ground with nines
They got 'em hooked lyke dope
They gotta make up dey mind because they runnin' outta tyme
And I'm about to make them choke
Betta turn ya stereo LOUDER
Listen and let me PREACH
Let's get arrested for disturbin the *echo*PEACE COME ON*echo*

(Talking)
Man dis disturbin the peace shit gettin' on my nerves
Boy I tell ya the truth know wut I'm sayin'
While he doin' shows... I'm in deese screets
Know wut I'm sayin'
While he on TV I'm in deese screets
And then my broad and my kid walk around singin' it
Boy if dey sing anotha verse boy I swear y'know wut I'm sayin'
I'm on anotha level though
I got a car wash... I got a shop on O national
I got my own record lable... you heard up
The poxy family cartel y'know I'm sayin'
We real
Who this nigga think he is?

(Luda)
I'm a household name wit game spittin' outta my mouth at all tymes
I spit it out an about and spit it out of da south
Till the recognize the danger signs
So feel the tingle in yo spine by the way I talk
And deres pimpin' in my blood you can tell by the way I walk
Ooh lord more styles then a barber shop
Call the cops
People in da way when a ball the block
Little do they know that I'm callin shots
And I'm not ta b fucked wit
If ya see me commin round the corner then duck quick
Perpatraitors can suck dick
I tried ta tell them
But dey don' wanna listen
I tried ta shine em
But dey don' wanna glisten
While the hot head keeps on tickin
And the kick drum peep I'm pumpin I'm dumpin
On da coast is fools
'Cause rules was made to b broken
But you can't make broken rules
Hear wut I'm sayin' or heard wut I said
Hear wut they playin'
'Cause through this music ima still be hurr if I'm dead
Call yo producers 'cause I'm hurtin' deese beats
I said once I'll say it twice BITCH DISTURBIN THE PEACE *PEACE COME ON*Echoed*

Written by:

Burt Bacharach; Charles Fred Bobbitt; Christopher Bridges; James Brown; Lynne Collins; Hal David; J Mollings; L Mollings; Fred A Jr Wesley