Artist: Waka Flocka Flame f/ Bun B, Ludacris
Album:  Triple F Life: Fans, Friends & Family
Song:   Candy Paint & Gold Teeth
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com

[Intro]
{Da Honorable C.N.O.T.E.}
Uh...FLOCKA!

[Chorus: Waka Flocka Flame]
I'm from the South, Southern hospitality, soul food
dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners, dinners
I'm from the south, where the old folks they don't mind they business (NO!)
Strip clubs is our culture we some heavy spenders
C-Candy paint and gold teeth, c-candy paint and gold teeth
C-Candy paint and gold teeth, c-candy paint and gold teeth
C-Candy paint and gold teeth, c-candy paint and gold teeth
C-Candy paint and gold teeth, c-candy paint and gold teeth

[Waka Flocka Flame]
I'm in Riverdale on 85, at Ann' Laura's eatin some soul food (Squad!)
Clayton County attitude (Squad!), let me know if you down to (Flocka!)
party all night with my people (Ay mayne, ay mayne!)
And if yo' ass go hungry man, them old folks they gon' feed you
I bring +Drama+, like Sammy Sam, I'm Soul Plane fly
Twist the burn, bumpin Do or Die (HOL' DAT!) call it clean, no suit and tie
+Geto Boy+ like Willie D, Cartier, wood grains like I'm Pimp C
Hall of Fame like Bun B
I ain't from the South, that's Ludacris, that country shit
Fish and grits, yard full of pits, w-wet paint, b-big rims
You cain't help but ta notice it, put the beat in it, dark tints (Shawty!)
I'm coolin it wit my bad bitch (FLEX!), she thick as shit not average (FLEX!)
Country hell with dem manners, yellin Riverdale, where we at (RIVERDAAAAAALE~!!!)

[Hook]

[Bun B]
Mayne I'm sittin low in my old school 
and my locs is on and I'm so cool
And my top is dropped, so there's no roof 
and I'm shinin' hard as my gold tooth (Hol' up)
I'm trill as hell, and I'm heavy set 
Pray to the Lord, but don't get it bent
I'm from the hood, and I represent
and I turn it up like the deficit
I'm from Texas, bitch (bitch) 
Cadillac no Lexus, bitch (bitch)
Where we ride on fo's, them suicide doors that part 
No plastics, bitch (bitch)
So you best not test us, bitch (bitch)
'cause we will get reckless, bitch (bitch)
Catch you on yo' block wit' that big black Glock 
Take more than yo' necklace, bitch (bitch)
Tell me who gon' check us, bitch (uh), we outside 
Down for the hood nigga we gon' ride
My gladiators, yeah they go live 
wit' them ARs' and them fo'-fives
So watch yo' step, and know yo' place 
If you ain't trill, don't show yo' face
'cause I'll pull and pop, and I'll catch a case
and I'll leave the scene wit' no trace~!

[Chorus]

[Ludacris]
RAHH!! Ha-ha, LUDA!
FRESH out the shop and the candy-coated Cadillac stacked on amazing wheels
Seats lookin like I holla'd at the Reese's Peanut Butter company and made a deal (HA!)
Trunk shakin like jelly, these honeys ready to check the spread
cause I get that cheese, and I sandwich myself between the bread (Woo!)
So keep yo' mind on yo' riches, and get ya hoes right
cause in these streets you not safe unless ya code's right (yea)
This other livin is like something you ain't never seen (Never!)
Ask any hustler, his favorite color is money green
Blacked-out tint (tint), white walls spinnin (spinnin)
Lookin' for the ham-hock-neckbone-collard-green-cornbread-eatin women
We some country-ass certified gangstas in the South
When you speak about who's hottest, watch yo' mother-FUCKIN mouth, LUDA~!

[Chorus]