Goodie Bag

On the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

So put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

Cuz, you know me, givin' me

Left hand dap, P-Funk be ridin' shotgun

Escort, your window broke out, son

A cool breeze, got my lips chapped, morning, slap some

Soul in my breadbasket, gap contain

X mark the spot, Twain, O.C., the cut layin'

A slew of empty gas in my tank

A buck thirty lookin' ugly, think, but it ain't gonna stop no show

Old bird puttin' a buzz in you ear, "It's gon' snow"

Or maybe perhaps sleet, rap up the beat

Outside, barely made it to your wake

Lookin' like Mr. Fisher, Dickie down, no suit, no tie

**** ain't gonna be able to just get by no more

You leavin' the hotel, two-fifty-four

Today was good to me

I went to the Goodwill with a ten dollar bill

Got the London Fog out the back, paid the man

Me and Khujo and T-Boo, three jack lumbers

On the loose, cut your ass low like Cee

Be under the water, half these **** around me be hollerin', "Newt"

Now what the fuck has this politician did for you?

Complain, complain, but Mr. Clampett ain't gon' change

Just rib your ass up just to gut your pockets out

I heard Bill put two G's up for some folks

That they found in they house beat up and I don't discuss

The color scheme that they fall on

'Cause the scheme that they fall on, don't match with my tone

See, I wonder will I walk the streets in 1995

And not have to make bond from two-five-four? Uh

Will somebody please turn the lights on in one-sixty-six?

I can't see where the fuck I'm goin'

I can't do shit but get mad

I can't keep get Billy and his uncle out my fucking goodie bag

Without your shank, you can't think

Without your ****, you up the creek, stank, with a ass full of ore

Takin' what I say for what it's worth, bitch, don't matter

'Cause how I feel might be triggered from thoughts I had in the past

Now I struggle to reach the sky

Why try so hard if all I'ma get is spit on

'Cause life at the bottom ain't hittin' on shit?

But some of these folks are gettin' rich

I know about mine, unwind, can't take at times goin' through

The same drama that got me here in this state of mind

Red hot in the summer time

First of all, I stand a little more than five feet tall

But we can still brawl, ****, I ain't scared at all

I guess you **** don't know or can't see

That it ain't even wise steppin' to me incorrectly

But yet and still, when **** feel they can deal

I will split your ass up for real

'Cause we the maniacs with the chunky goodie sacks

So I don't carry an ax, but I still swing low with The Lumberjacks

Tracks are being made by Organo-I-Z-E

While we coolin' in the shade

Ain't getting paid for chillin', illin', willin'

To do what I got to do to come through your speaker

Cee-Lo, he will never come weaker

Uniquer than a lot of MC's out today

Because I'm more than careful about what I say

When I pick up a microphone, it's on

Them better leave me alone, I'm in my zone

Prone to snaps if you offer me a chance

Like it when them chunky hoes can dance, I'll enhance

The microphone when it's in my grip, I do not slip

I can't forget my ****, Jo, T-Mo, and Gipp

Well, great Scott, is he a thief?

It seems like he has a mouth full of gold teeth

I smile because your eyes can't take the glare

But Cee-Lo, him don't care, I cut off all my hair

And everybody stop and stare when we come in the place

And I can get on the mic with no time to waste

Get right up in your face, kick the flavor you taste

And when I'm on the microphone, it's a damn disgrace

How you don't comprehend what I'm sayin' to you

And I'm the C, the double E, from the Goodie Mo' crew

I'm comin' through, I'm comin' true, ooh, I can't even stop

It's Cee-Lo, B, I'm down with that ****, pop, pop, pop

And my ****, Mike L, and Bert P

And my ****, Pretty Ken, you know he down with me

We from Atlanta, G-A, that is where we stay

I'm diggin' off in the goodie bag each and every day

Ooh, shit

So put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

So put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

Put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

So put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

So put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed

Put some fire on the ass-end of that weed

'Cause in the SWATS, red hots don't drip or bleed