"Ham Samiches & Coup DeVilles" lyrics
(feat. Big Boi & Big Gipp)
[Big Boi:]
Yeah
This is a A-town/Bay-town connection
E-40, Daddy Fat Sax, Big Gipp
Dirty South, Bay Area (One, two), Vallejo
We don't need no [?]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (One, two)
Know what I'm talking about?
[E-40:]
I'ma show up, I like to make my presence felt
Turn a few tight ones, running red lightses, driving without my license (One, two)
Driving without my license
Running red lightses, turn a few tight ones, same color as my viznicking
Off the purple bag, eighty proof Crown Royal whiskey
'Bout to act bad in my '95th Fleetwood ham sandwich with the f-uh-fifth deck (One, two)
Hella hecka extra mannish sitting like a bowlegged p-uh-pit
Sick Wid It, hanging out the sunroof breathing on a Camel cigarette
Fresh up out of the vocal booth slapping speakers, 'woofers on hit (One, two)
Young Mugzi, in the car right behind me on a cell phone, talking big spit
Kaveo, in the car right behind me, screaming, "I move that piece of shit!"
D-Shot, no more in the car with me, talking about, "Dude, I gotta piss"
Somebody just hit me on my two-way pager, damn, who is this?
Big Boi, Dre and Big Gipp (One, two)
Who is it? Who is it, pimping? (Oh boy)
Big Boi, Dre and Big Gipp
[Big Boi:]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
[Big Gipp:]
Straight out the cut, Gipp tough, [?]
[?] through this country slum, leave 'em crooked every time (One, two)
Wipe your feet 'fore you get in the seat
No dirt, [?] be a no drinks, no spill
Slurring it off the head, way back, long time ago
If she giving out cards, then she gotta be a ho (One, two)
Sound of the tongue make her cum 'fore she even take her clothes off
Politics been slick
I love backseats with footrests
Girls with clean elbows, [?] boots with pointed toes (One, two)
And, bitch, you ain't it
So keep sucking and busting until you find the right man, shawty
"Somebody smoking," Nigga, who, me?
Fatty Haddy in the Caddy ham sandwich doing damage (One, two)
Holding down the curb 'cause I ain't sitting on blocks
Private stock elite
Forever bending corners in the 'llac with my folks hollering, "Come back!"
One, two
[Big Boi:]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill (One, two)
Yeah
Nickel and diming, dicking and rhyming, riding
Sliding gently down the street, my '79 is blinding
'Cause the paintjob is frosty like the flakes (One, two)
Or them big chocolate shakes, mustard and mayonnaise on the plate
Looking like a big old pair of skates
Too late, you met your maker
You fothermucking [?]
Wanna-be-me-old-ass nigga
Why do you think that Bay-town niggas (One, two) and A-town niggas are bigger?
Figure, Mr. Flamboyant and them Dungeon Family coochie killers
Sipping on Cuervo Gold and Carlos Rossi, truly true gorillas
Coup DeVilles and slant backs, damn, I love a Cadillac (One, two)
Especially on the Sunday afternoon, that's when the park packed
Charlie Hustlini, go on and spark that
Show these players [?] Regals where your hearts at, don't start that
Sticking and moving like [?], wood up under velour mats (One, two)
AC blowing colder than a penguin sitting on ice packs, yeah (Yeah, yeah, nigga)
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (One, two)
Know what I'm talking about?
Yeah
This is a A-town/Bay-town connection
E-40, Daddy Fat Sax, Big Gipp
Dirty South, Bay Area (One, two), Vallejo
We don't need no [?]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (One, two)
Know what I'm talking about?
[E-40:]
I'ma show up, I like to make my presence felt
Turn a few tight ones, running red lightses, driving without my license (One, two)
Driving without my license
Running red lightses, turn a few tight ones, same color as my viznicking
Off the purple bag, eighty proof Crown Royal whiskey
'Bout to act bad in my '95th Fleetwood ham sandwich with the f-uh-fifth deck (One, two)
Hella hecka extra mannish sitting like a bowlegged p-uh-pit
Sick Wid It, hanging out the sunroof breathing on a Camel cigarette
Fresh up out of the vocal booth slapping speakers, 'woofers on hit (One, two)
Young Mugzi, in the car right behind me on a cell phone, talking big spit
Kaveo, in the car right behind me, screaming, "I move that piece of shit!"
D-Shot, no more in the car with me, talking about, "Dude, I gotta piss"
Somebody just hit me on my two-way pager, damn, who is this?
Big Boi, Dre and Big Gipp (One, two)
Who is it? Who is it, pimping? (Oh boy)
Big Boi, Dre and Big Gipp
[Big Boi:]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
[Big Gipp:]
Straight out the cut, Gipp tough, [?]
[?] through this country slum, leave 'em crooked every time (One, two)
Wipe your feet 'fore you get in the seat
No dirt, [?] be a no drinks, no spill
Slurring it off the head, way back, long time ago
If she giving out cards, then she gotta be a ho (One, two)
Sound of the tongue make her cum 'fore she even take her clothes off
Politics been slick
I love backseats with footrests
Girls with clean elbows, [?] boots with pointed toes (One, two)
And, bitch, you ain't it
So keep sucking and busting until you find the right man, shawty
"Somebody smoking," Nigga, who, me?
Fatty Haddy in the Caddy ham sandwich doing damage (One, two)
Holding down the curb 'cause I ain't sitting on blocks
Private stock elite
Forever bending corners in the 'llac with my folks hollering, "Come back!"
One, two
[Big Boi:]
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill (One, two)
Yeah
Nickel and diming, dicking and rhyming, riding
Sliding gently down the street, my '79 is blinding
'Cause the paintjob is frosty like the flakes (One, two)
Or them big chocolate shakes, mustard and mayonnaise on the plate
Looking like a big old pair of skates
Too late, you met your maker
You fothermucking [?]
Wanna-be-me-old-ass nigga
Why do you think that Bay-town niggas (One, two) and A-town niggas are bigger?
Figure, Mr. Flamboyant and them Dungeon Family coochie killers
Sipping on Cuervo Gold and Carlos Rossi, truly true gorillas
Coup DeVilles and slant backs, damn, I love a Cadillac (One, two)
Especially on the Sunday afternoon, that's when the park packed
Charlie Hustlini, go on and spark that
Show these players [?] Regals where your hearts at, don't start that
Sticking and moving like [?], wood up under velour mats (One, two)
AC blowing colder than a penguin sitting on ice packs, yeah (Yeah, yeah, nigga)
Yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
How you feel?
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ham sandwiches and Coup DeVilles (One, two)
Sick Wid It, pop your collar and chill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (One, two)
Know what I'm talking about?
