Lirik Lagu Virginia - Clipse
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[Pharrell]You ready to do this, nigga?You ready to come down here?It's Virginia, nigga...We do this in broad daylight...It's a whole different degree of homicide, nigga...You ready?
[Chorus: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pusha T]In my "Home Sweet Home" I keep chrome next to my bonesAlters my walk to limpin'Since I love the feel, I guess I'm passionately pimpin'It 'tis what it seemsThat thing imprintin' through the seams of my jeans, by all meansLost it all, from lives to lovePut my faith in my money, help me rise aboveSee I turned to the Lord when them times got toughBullied through streets, powder I pushed and shovedIn that ole' VirgineyOut of ten niggas, nine are guineaNo money, all they know is gimme, got semis waitin'Heat like Caribbean summers, I been thereEach year, a diffferent bitch wonderWho wing she gon' fall under, Push' or Mal'Ganga grinds, wit' me, with thoughts of fuckin' them cross her mindLook ma, that's right up my alleyI love my family, I want them all happyIn Virginia, we smirked at that Simpson trialYeah, I guess the chase was wildBut what's the fuss about?See, plenty my partners feelin' like O.J.Beat murder like the shit is OK, that's what our door sayTalk the evil that men do, I'm lost in the mentalI miss you Shampoo, we miss you ShampooAnd your grams, too...[Pharrell]My nigga...Fo sho...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Malice]Seem like they all got a comment to makeIn regards to my paper, now they guessin' my weightThey fast to predict the outcome of my fateWonderin' 'bout Clipse and if they got what it takeMalice, he think he hard, tough guy of the cliqueAnd Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shitYou right on both counts, bitch, Clipse is usAnd there are some things that you don't discussDon't ask me 'bout the Neptunes and what's they fairDon't ask about the loud screamin' chick with the hairDon't ask about my music, and how that's comin' 'boutDon't ask about my album, or when's it comin' out'Cause I feel like you really being funny on the slideNow face down, layin' on your tummy, or you dieI tried being humble, humble get no respectNow the first sign of trouble, that's a hole up in your neckPlus, what I look like spendin' my nights in jailI could never be a thug, they don't dress this wellI reside in VA, ride in VAMost likely when I die, I'm gon' die in VAVirginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate hereFor out-of-towners, who think that they gon' move weight hereIronic, the same same place I'm makin' figures atThat there's the same land they used to hang niggas at, in Virginia...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pharrell]Young'n... (Talk about, what?)This is real, young'n... (Talk about, what?)You lookin' into a whole different world, young'n (Talk about, what?)This is real...Live...
[Chorus: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pusha T]In my "Home Sweet Home" I keep chrome next to my bonesAlters my walk to limpin'Since I love the feel, I guess I'm passionately pimpin'It 'tis what it seemsThat thing imprintin' through the seams of my jeans, by all meansLost it all, from lives to lovePut my faith in my money, help me rise aboveSee I turned to the Lord when them times got toughBullied through streets, powder I pushed and shovedIn that ole' VirgineyOut of ten niggas, nine are guineaNo money, all they know is gimme, got semis waitin'Heat like Caribbean summers, I been thereEach year, a diffferent bitch wonderWho wing she gon' fall under, Push' or Mal'Ganga grinds, wit' me, with thoughts of fuckin' them cross her mindLook ma, that's right up my alleyI love my family, I want them all happyIn Virginia, we smirked at that Simpson trialYeah, I guess the chase was wildBut what's the fuss about?See, plenty my partners feelin' like O.J.Beat murder like the shit is OK, that's what our door sayTalk the evil that men do, I'm lost in the mentalI miss you Shampoo, we miss you ShampooAnd your grams, too...[Pharrell]My nigga...Fo sho...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Malice]Seem like they all got a comment to makeIn regards to my paper, now they guessin' my weightThey fast to predict the outcome of my fateWonderin' 'bout Clipse and if they got what it takeMalice, he think he hard, tough guy of the cliqueAnd Pusha, he walk around like he swear he the shitYou right on both counts, bitch, Clipse is usAnd there are some things that you don't discussDon't ask me 'bout the Neptunes and what's they fairDon't ask about the loud screamin' chick with the hairDon't ask about my music, and how that's comin' 'boutDon't ask about my album, or when's it comin' out'Cause I feel like you really being funny on the slideNow face down, layin' on your tummy, or you dieI tried being humble, humble get no respectNow the first sign of trouble, that's a hole up in your neckPlus, what I look like spendin' my nights in jailI could never be a thug, they don't dress this wellI reside in VA, ride in VAMost likely when I die, I'm gon' die in VAVirginia's for lovers, but trust there's hate hereFor out-of-towners, who think that they gon' move weight hereIronic, the same same place I'm makin' figures atThat there's the same land they used to hang niggas at, in Virginia...
[Chorus 2X's: Pusha T & (Pharrell)]I'm from Virginia, where ain't shit to do but cook (Talk about, what?)Pack it up, sell it triple-price, fuck the books (Talk about, what?)Where we re-up, re-locate, re-off them brooks (Talk about, what?)So when we pull up, it ain't shit to do but look (Talk about, what?)
[Pharrell]Young'n... (Talk about, what?)This is real, young'n... (Talk about, what?)You lookin' into a whole different world, young'n (Talk about, what?)This is real...Live...
