Libella Swing - Parov Stelar

It’s a Midwest thang, y’all — and they ain’t got a clue

(They ain’t got a clue) why my Cutlass blue

and I got them thangs on that muh’fucker too

It’s a Midwest swang, y’all — and they ain’t gotta trip

(They ain’t gotta trip) while we swing and dip

Cause we do big thangs on the muh’fuckin hip

It’s a Midwest thang (chorus)

Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay What you think we live on a farm?

Nigga be for real

We got Benz’s Rovers’and Jag’s, Hummer’s and Deville’s

Got a green S Class, ain’t broke the door seal

Shit ain’t been the same since I signed Fo’Reel

This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mill

Five and countin', dirty six at will

Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide

I’ll be on my third Bentley by the time I’m at 9

I hear 'em cryin, You gon’sell out ya damn right

I done sold out before and re-comped the same night

Straight hopped the next flight, too *Icey* for sunlight

Dunkin without Sprite, yea you heard me dirty

I’m from the Show-Me State, show me seven I’ll show you eight

Karats in one bling, heavily starched jeans

Representin St. Louis everytime I breathe

In the city I touch down and I bob and weave, ay I sport my beeper on my boots, that’s why I be a buzz when I kick

Maybe it’s on my lips, it’s chaos when I spit

Quarter man, quarter schoolboy, half Lunatic

Quarter rubber, quarter dick, other half in yo’shit

Keep a quarter of some sheeeiit, I’m the Pooky of the backyard

All colors and all types like a junkyard

Hot young boy with hot young ways

Cause I connect three blunts and be high for three days

You can tell by the way I walk I ain’t from 'round hurr (here)

Probably couldn’t tell cuz I ain’t walkin nowhurr (nowhere)

I got a old-school Cutlass, with a hole in the urr (air)

TV’s urrwhurr (everywhere) wood grain to sturr (stare)

I don’t curr (care), hell naw I ain’t cuttin my hurr (hair)

To the half in them Airforce 1's, give me two purr (pair) ugh

I’m from the Lou’and what I do is a Lou’thang

One rapper, two rings and three chains

Nothing but some ole country boys that ride V-12 horses

Saddle up and put spurs on my Airforce’s

Back porches made for hide and go seek

We got space out hurr, we can ride and chief

Ain’t gotta worry 'bout nobody approachin’us

By the time they catchin’up, we smoked it up And my eyes be red, my lips a lil’dark

The Lou is more than the Rams, Cards and lil’Arch

My dirty’s love to spark, and love to sparkle

Love homies *Vokal* coats with matchin’car do’s (doors)

We racin down Skinker, see how fast our car go Granny be like Ay-yi-yi like Ricky Ricardo

I know you wanna know why we do what we do You cats ain’t got a clue why the Cutlass blue

Brand new twenty-two's on new UP’s

With one, two, three, four, five TV’s

I’m sittin’on the front porch, writin a hood rhyme

Waitin on my connect to deliver that good line

Wish I would find, one seed in my weed

Sticks and shit, if I do somebody bleed

Pull right here, eight pounds of Chinamen

Two stay hittin some blunts and Heineken

Hidin in the back with the po’po'

kicked in my do’do', man they some ho’hooo’s

They put the gun to my earr, you know the Lord don’t fear

Nann nigga, nann hoe, let’s keep that bullshit clearr

They had me face down in the skreet

Errbody watchin, thinkin I’ma pull the heat

And leave the D-tects with a leak in the skreet

And that — pussy ass nigga that set me up my peeps

Gon’give it to this nigga like NYPD

Beat the K, fuck coke, now I’m back on my granny porch hustlin