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sir mix-a-lot - seattle ain't bullshittin' كلمات الأغنية

[mix-a-lot] yo att-tude (talk to me)! we got some bustin’ -ss marks out here claimin’ some m-th-f-ckin’ place they ain’t never seen
[att-tude] huh, sellout
[mix-a-lot] boy this is the s-e-a-t-o-w-n, clown
[att-tude] forever (seatown)! yeah, and that’s from the motherf-ckin heart! so if you ain’t down witcha hometown, step off punk! mix, tell these fakes what the deal is

[verse one: sir mix-a-lot]
i was raised in the s-e-a-double t-l-e
seattle, born in the c.d. n-gga
19th and yesler boy da pimpin’ was hard
cadillac was the car i wanted
and i got that seven-seven coupe with the trues and straps
i couldn’t roll no hubcaps, huh, it wasn’t easy
tryin’ to compete, with my homies in the c.d
here’s my plan, funky–ss sedan
laid down with the vogues, money in my hand
hair all whipped up
carload full of freaks with the b-tts
i used to cruise around seward park
flip the funky eighty-one, and la vista
lookin’ for freaks to be g’d
most mini-skirts wanted please
in them days boy you had to be pimpin’
just to keep motherf-ckers from trippin’
now punks wanna run up pokin’
with a nine double-m, is you jokin’?
cause i’m packin’ – a hk-91 son
308’s is what i run
a lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn’t
huh, cause seattle wasn’t bullsh-ttin’

[interlude: att-tude]
it ain’t nothin’ but the real up in the northwest (real deal n-gga)
so don’t step to the 2-0-6 tryin to kick up dust
or you might get floored, sucka (get f-cked up), think about it
this is from the att-tude adjustor

[verse two: sir mix-a-lot]
do we got gangs? h-ll yeah, brothers gotta get paid
mickey d’s ain’t payin’ no way
so they take to the streets with gats
and they’ll put ’em on ya just like that
so i’m undercover, when i’m rollin’ through the c.d
a lot of n-ggas wanna get me
i see a freak in front of garfield, i swoop around the block
gang of n-ggas yellin’ out, “f-ck mix-a-lot!”
do i hate ’em? naw, i gotta love ’em
they think my head is big, and i’m tryin to be above ’em
huh, but to the m-sses i’m just another coon
gettin’ paid for a little bit of boon
so even though a lot of n-ggas talk sh-t
i’m still down for the northwest when i hit
the stage, anywhere u.s.a
i give seattle and tacoma much play
so here’s a shot to the criminal nation
and the young brother kid sensation
i can’t forget maharaji and the att-tude adjustor
and the hardcore brothers to the west of seattle
yeah, westside
high pointe, dippin’ fo’-do’ rides
and my homeboy critical m-ss in the back
with the bat to smack back all packs who try to jack me
just because i’m in a s-e-c
droptop a-m-g
the cops say mix-a-lot’s a dope dealer
but i’m more like a dope deal sealer
i sell rap deals, not drug deals
handin’ out contracts like meals
the rhyme cartel, i own the m-th-f-ckin’ label
and ricardo got the papers on the table
and i’m signin’ ’em, just like that
no sl-ts so my pockets stay fat
a lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn’t
huh, cause seattle wasn’t bullsh-ttin’

[att-tude] huh, n-gga this is my town, what you talkin’?
[mix-a-lot] punks tryin’ to tell me where i come from! who the f-ck you talkin’ to, clown?
[att-tude] need to shut the h-ll up, seattle tacoma strong
[mix-a-lot] sh-t, you was a young lil’ rudy poot m-th-f-cka ‘fore you picked up a nine millimeter!
[att-tude] who you smokin’?
[mix-a-lot] punk -ss, cake, f-ggot -ss n-gga!

[verse three: sir mix-a-lot]
let’s take a trip to the south end, we go west
hit rainier ave and bust left
i’m in a funky–ss porsche gemballa
no b-tches, just women on my collar
s-e-a-t-o-w-n
yo’ n-gga is back again
huh, who you callin’ sellout fool?
i was puttin’ caps in clowns when you was still in school
but i choose not to talk about that
so many gangsta crews now, i’d rather kick back
so i drop my own style
f-ck bitin’ somebody else, and jumpin’ on a pile
but that’s another subject, gettin’ back to the hood
me and my boys is up to no good
a big line of cars, rollin’ deep through the south end
made a left on henderson
clowns talkin’ sh-t in the southsh0r- parkin’ lot
critical m-ss is beggin’ to box
but we keep on goin’ because down the streets
a bunch of freaks in front of rainier beach, was lookin’ at us
they missed that bus, and they figured that they could trust us
six cars in a line and the girls was fine
i had “the wicked one” playin’ on my alpine
two porsches, two benzes, a ferrari testarossa
and a rolls royce roaster
miami vice tried to get with this, but they didn’t
huh-huh, cause seattle ain’t bullsh-ttin’!

yeah i wanna wh-ssup to my dj punish?
my boy strange, across the water wh-ssup lx?
bookie, mark p, mc fury
the group eq, old forty ounce drinkin’ a.d
always dangerous
pd2, tribe, e.c.p. ready and willin’
nasty nes and glen boyd
p.o.s., brothers of the same mind
l.s.r., high performance
wh-ssup eightball? kazzy d, villains in black
j-1, e-dawg, my boy t-mack
p.l.b., mc kash
my boy with the hookup on the ‘zoid freak coordinator
bubba, dj sk!ll and my boy ar-10
everybody in seatown and t-town!

- sir mix a lot

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