Lyrics

[Verse 1]
A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L Hoe, A-T-L Hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
[Verse 2]
My **** what you know about the A-T-L-A-N-T-A, G-A?
My **** we swervin'
Out of proportion, all Michael Jordans blingin'
When the sun be scorchin'
Who that be me B-A-B-Y-D from the B-I-G double O-M-P
I said it before but I'm going to say it again
My **** we too D double E P
I represent the dirty dirty south
Down here lil' buddy we don't play no games
I represent the A-T-L
Eastside shorty and the Westside **** on the thing
Throw you hood up
Make your shoulder jump
If you hating on the A then lock 'em in the trunk
You don't know who you fucking with
But I'll bet we'll bounce on your motherfucking ass like it ain't shit
A-T-L Hoe throwing up them A's
Gangsta walk on the motherfucking stage
**** watch me bounce on these sucker ass punks
Then I fucked around and got the A town started
Don't make me say ain't told you so
Throwing bows to the nose saying yeah, ho
Pastor, Archie and Big Oomp click
Add it up young **** that Gangsta shit
[Verse 3]
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
[Verse 4]
Yeah, hey, come on
****, it's Archie
The phatest skinny **** you will never know
Trying to stop my cheddar flow, holler at my beretta blow
At your dome and at your chest
Wear your chrome and wear your vest
Had your home a bloody mess
Faked thugs get blessed with a slug to the chest
Arch to the I to the E
Passing Baby D beside me
Eastside Boyz is right behind me
A-town bitch **** you trying to find me
Simpson Road down to Godbe
These are the places that I be
These are the faces that I see
I die for the city, don't play by me
[Verse 5]
You can try me if you wanna Archie be bringing drama
Pistol carriers bury, you make you say we the bomb ya
Death before dishonor, put that on my mama
The phat boy representer tell I'm a goner, yeah ****
[Verse 6]
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe
A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T-L Hoe
[Verse 7]
Pistol, pistol, my pistol banana fanna Atlanta
Bombing on the bitch the young the filthy rich
The six I use to drive was live but under rated
I cut off the top and had the V-12 gold plated
But some **** hated they do not hate it in public
Them pussy ass **** gon' make me jump in my bucket
The brown one with the three rims
I whoop up on your block ****, your chance slim
Do you remember Tim? They call him Poor Timmy
I fuck his pussy over his hammy with a fifty rimmy
Think you are **** friendly cause I'm the Pastor
Bitch, I ain't Creflow, this A-T-L Hoe
[Verse 8]
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T-L hoe, A-T-L hoe
A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, A-T, ATL hoe
Written by: Jonathan Smith, Micah Troy
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