b-eazy - they don't know (214) lyrics
[intro]
[hook: b-dash]
these fools don’t know, bout that 214!
[8x]
[verse 1: b-dash]
yeah! ganster to the elements/
clear the scene, leave all the evidence/
you gone think a n-gg- like me was heaven sent/
when i pull up to your hood or your residence/
it ain’t nothing to boss, cuz it’s evident/
you better put your money away/
you ain’t confident/
15% of that sh-t be real/
the other 85% be fake as sh-t!/
you better watch what you say to me/
keep your eyes and your toes all down in the streets/
i be rolling 75 bout twice a week/
make ’em find another body in the trinity/
chop it up with my n-gg-s out tha murda worth/
817 be known for that murder first/
469, 682 dog/
that sh-t just be that area code!/
roll up bout 3 in a row/
f-cking around with my n-gg- off keist & polk/
he didn’t know that i was a real bloods -ss n-gg-/
but i keep a couple crips off wheatland rd./
everything be moving slow/
when i pour a four in double styrofoam cups/
got a couple bottles off riverfront/
now we’re rolling through the city/
getting real f-cked up!/
some n-gg-s might call it mic city/
know a couple gangsters that’s getting it/
these n-gg-s don’t know bout 214, man/
my n-gg-s really gritty!/
yeah!
[hook: b-dash]
these fools don’t know, bout that 214!
[8x]
[verse 2: b-eazy]
now, now, now, now/
tell me what you know about/
that dirty south?/
boys sitting on chrome/
and got them golds/
thrown all up in they mouth!/
down here, we call ’em grills/
like ugk, we keep it trill/
hey i might pop a pill/
and keep my sweets filled up with that k!ll/
never none of that reggie, though/
if we gone blow, it must be dro!/
flown in from mexico/
if you got a better connect/
then let me know!/
if not, then let me go/
choke on that indo smoke/
blow bout 2 blunts, then roll/
back to that liquor store/
we finna go get some more/
any brown drink ending with xo/
henny, remy, e&j extra old/
corked up over 8 years old/
gotta be top-shelf, you know/
anything less? i’ll tell ya “no!”/
this 214, it’s texas, hoe!/
and we like our music extra slow!/
[verse 3: jakecon]
now let me tell you a little bit about that d-town swag/
triple d that, these n-gg-s out here getting that cash/
riding foreign car, behind tint, blowing that gas/
and we’ll blast on that -ss with that 4-4 mag/
my n-gg-s staying to they business/
and these haters, they mad!/
but i’m never f-cked up about it/
just keep smashing the gas/
cuz i’m a south dallas n-gg-/
and i’m built to last/
coming off of 2nd ave./
getting at some cash/
got k!llas in masks/
reppin the set, while playing with techs/
my n-gg-s, they sick/
so f-ck your click!/
i’ll f-ck your b-tch!
straight gangster sh-t/
i’ll empty clips/
then sank your ship/
and to keep from going under/
jump in my whip & dip!/
i plead the 5th/
yeah, i’m on some dallas sh-t!/
you got oak cliff, the nutty north/
and the grove in the b-tch/
these fools don’t know (fa sho!)/
why we loving this sh-t/
but 214, you already know/
just let me thug in this b-tch!/
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