Back to Top

Nelly - Country Grammar Album Lyrics



Nelly - Country Grammar Lyrics






Intro

Intro (Featuring Cedric The Entertainer)


*car engine starts*
*phone rings*

Cedric:
Man, this fool ain't pickin' up.

Nelly on answering machine:
You know who it is. Do what you do.

Cedric:
Ey, yo Nelly. What's up dog, this Ced the Entertainer. Get at me man. I been
hollerin' at you. Man I been tryin' to call you 'bout three days.
Done called your cell phone, your pager, your voice mail over your mama's
house. Your Uncle Darell and I paged Kyjuan like three times. Ya'll
get at me man. I just want to holla at you playa. You know I'm out here in Cali
just doin' it up, hangin' out here. You know. Chillin'. Trying to
do a little TV. You know how I do it. Rollin' round here in a big body Benz wit
two dollars worth of gas. Ha. Who said it won't no future in your
front? Getting ready to put it down like that with that country grammer right.
I heard about it, using them words like St. Louis. HeRRe. TheRRe.
Put them two capitol R's and evr' thang. Ha. I feel you on that right. I feel
you so just get at me so I can do a lil somethin' for you, flip a few
thangs. Just call me back. Whatever. You can't get me, call over my mama's
house, they know how to page me. They a page me to yo number
then i call you back or you could just page my cousin Keith and he'll call my
cousin lil Darrell who got my real pager number and then I'll you back
on his cell phone. He He. Whatever you do playa, do it St. Louis style. Put it
down for the STL ight. Now get at me.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jason Epperson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




St. Louie

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Mmmmm you can find me in St. Louie
Where the gun play ring all day (nanana)
Some got jobs and some sell yea'
Others just smoke and f*ck all day

I'm from the home of Red Fox, Ced the Entertainer
Jettin off with Brian Cox, I'll see ya later
Maybe not cuz I got somethin hot
In the Navigata, waitin in the parkin lot
A Bad Boy, on a Ryde Ruff-er than The LOX
I keep 'em both cocked, need her ass the bring it
Now tell me boys have ya seen her
Have you seen her, nine millimeter
Makin niggas believas
Hop out the two seater, now vocab wife beater
Levi's fresh from the cleaners
Heavy starch with the cuff
Like f*ck it leave it to beaver
Catch me in the galleria, plaza, Chesterfield
Rollin down handly hills
And the blocks of Pattonville
I used to love it when hit me for a rocker
Maybe a boppa, i kept it propa
A non-stopa, around the clocka
Now its cool pull up the bends and helicopta
uh

[Chorus]

Sunday mornin, crack of dawnn and I'm yawnin
Natural bridge and kings highway is where I'm goin
Wake up man and start blowin
Gotta get those juices flowin
Now I'm gonna tell ya one more time
For you cats that just ain't knowin
Hey, you can find me in St. Louie
And the whole me fedy and leasy gettin slow
Grabin the optomo, sharpin up my flow
Practicin for my shows
Thats usually how it goes
We be ready to go, the chronic already rolled
Swing through O'Fallon sounds
Knockin out of control
Like a boom boom boom, who is it?
It's Jackie Frost, the one who's gettin where he at
And he told you whos the boss
I'm like a human hot sauce
Thinkin I'll burn your thoughts
Your information was false
I'll show you just what it costs
In the M I crooked letter crooked letter O U R I
No one could do it better, hey

[Chorus]

Now in the middle we keep it crock and jiggy
Love Pac and Biggie
The way that you love your sticky
Call Louie he have you pissy
Mix with hen and crissy
Bumpin Tim and Missy
With Slim he used to diss me
In the red Expedishy
Thats Okay though, she can ride for the day though
Can't even be a house guest like Kato
I'm a dog I said it rough
Now call me snoopy
Wouldn't have me in a hoopie
Now you see me in a coupie
In front of utopia, I'm hopin ya
Come down herd chippin, may I'm toastin ya
Thanksgiving in these parts yo we roastin ya
And when the heat come down
Get ghostin ya (god bless us)
Loax with us, just how he jokes with us
My daddy told me that I'm supposed to bust
Don't be provokin us
It ain't no joke in us
Just the north south east west coastin us

[Chorus repeat until end (with talking)]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, JASON EPPERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Greed Hate Envy

Right up in here, is the sweet spot
Stay right up in here, and don't bend unda pre'sure
Is that what it is? The cake will do
Uhh, uhh uhh, the cake will do
Tell em, f*ck the shame, tell em
F*ck the game, don't let the game f*ck you
Check it out

[Nelly]
I - opened up shop at 13
Dimes, dubs, quarter sacks and O-Z's
From hand-held, digital to triple-beam
Now my pa-ger's an e-mail flip screen
Expanded my game off into amphetamines
Looked around and had a small Wallgreens
But tha word out on tha street is that u f*cked wit my fiends
Them niggas around tha corner then let tha thing beam
Now they done let it burn out, phone a ching ching
Just another - hustle to add to my schemes
Just another piece of the puzzle to my dreams
cuz the house, the cars, and the coffee take green
I might ride tha range wit tha Roley on the rocks
or push a candy colored cutless wit a matchin T-shirt
When the - spot get hot don't stop, move shop
Find another block restock and take it from the top now

[Chorus Repeat 2x]
Greed, Hate, Envy but cake will do
F*ck tha game don't let the game f*ck you
Follow the rules stay cool and rock jewels
Greed, Hate, Envy but cake will do

[Nelly]
So you think you're the shit nigga YA smell me
Shouts out to my nigga NORE
I'll never take another man's glory
Shit don't mix like Shaq and Kobe
Now you know me, I be low key
On these icey roleys Scob done showed me
And hoes ignored me, now they blow me
Them niggas that loaned me now they owe me
Oh me Oh my I can see tha greed and tha envy in yo eyes
Now call me a lie
While you five stand by I stand by tha captain
Hoe play now did somebody page Samson
I stay cheefin' higha than a hooker on the weekends
Seven days a weekend man, I walk in yo church reekin
Now Lester called me a heathen old fish eyed fool
Bitch had the nerve to repeat old fish eyed fool

[Chorus]

[Nelly]
One time out in the Range Rover
(WOOP WOOP, WOOP!) Aww shit they pulled me over
What tha hell y'all f*ckin wit me fo?
Speed limit 30 just doin 34
"Yeah son, where the gun?" It's at home wit tha dope
"Oh you a smart ass ha?" Nah that's my lil joke
"How bout I tow yo truck in?" Ain't no need to be provoked
besides everything up in here done been smoked
I ain't got nuttin but tapes and CDs
Pocket full of G's and two tickets across seas
So me and my boo can lay under the palm trees
Ain't no more questions then hand me my ID
You could tell he was pissed
cuz the black man in the black range
doin black things wit his black change
Doin the right thing, drivin his ass insane
And if I wasn't in his face he probably be callin me names

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, LAVELL WEBB
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




country grammar (hot shit)

Hot shit (hot shit)

Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover (come on)
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go (hot shit)
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now
Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now (uh, uh, uh)

Mmm, you can find me in St. Louis rollin' on dubs
Smokin' on dubs in clubs, blowin' up like Cocoa Puffs
Sippin' bub', gettin' perved and gettin' dubbed
Daps and hugs, mean mugs and shoulder shrugs
And it's all because accumulated enough scratch
Just to navigate it, wood decorated on chrome
And it's candy painted, fans faintin' while I'm entertainin'
Wild, ain't it? How me and money gettin' acquainted
Plus I hang with Hannibal Lector (uh, uh, uh) (hot shit)
So feel me when I bring it, sing it loud (what?)
I'm from the Lou and I'm proud
Run a mile for the cause, I'm righteous above the law
Player my style's raw, I'm Born to Mack like Todd Shaw
Forget the fame and the glamour, give me D's with a rubber hammer
My grammar be's Ebonics, gin, tonic and chronic
F*ck Bionic, it's ironic, slammin' niggas like Onyx
Lunatics 'til the day I die and I run more game than the Bulls and Sonics

Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover (come on)
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go (hot shit)
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now
Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now (uh, uh)

Who say pretty boys can't be wild niggas?
Loud niggas, O.K. Corral niggas
Foul niggas, runnin' the club and bustin' the crowd nigga
"How nigga?" Ask me again and it's goin' down, nigga
Now nigga, come to the circus and watch me clown, nigga
Pound niggas, what you be givin' when I'm around nigga?
Frown niggas, talkin' shit when I leave the town, nigga
Say now, can you hoes come out to play now?
Hey, I'm ready to cut you up any day now
Play by my rules boo and you gon' stay high
May I answer your Third Question like A.I
Say hi, to my niggas left in the slammer
From St. Louis to Memphis, from Texas back up to Indiana
Chi-Town, K.C., Motown to Alabama
L.A., New York Yankee niggas to Hotlanta
Louisiana, all my niggas with "Country Grammar"
Smokin' blunts in Savannah, blow thirty mil' like I'm Hammer

Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover (come on)
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go (hot shit)
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now
Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now (uh, uh)

I'ma show these cats how to make these millions
So you niggas quit actin' silly, mon
Kid quicker than Billy, mon, talkin' really and I need it, mon
Flows, I kick 'em freely mon, especially off Remi, mon
Keys to my Beemer, mon, holla at Beenie Man
See me, mon, cheifin', rollin' deeper than any mon
Through Jennings, mon, through U-City back up to Kingsland
With nice niggas, shiest niggas who snatch yo' life, niggas
Trife niggas who produce and sell the same beat twice, nigga (hot shit)
Ice niggas, all over close to never sober
From broke to havin' brokers, my price-range is Rover
Now I'm knockin' like Jehovah, (let me in now), let me in now
Bill Gates, Donald Trump, let me in now
Spend now, I got money to lend my friends now
We in now, candy Benz, Kenwood and tens now
I win now (woo), f*ckin' lesbian twins now
Seein' now, through the pen I make my ends now

Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover (come on)
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go (hot shit)
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now
Mmm, I'm goin' down, down, baby, your street in a Range Rover
Street sweeper baby, cocked, ready to let it go
Shimmy-shimmy-cocoa-what, listen to it pound
Light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Cornell Haynes, Jason Epperson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Steal The Show

Yo, 'for the nigga mention my name I let him know the deal
I'm the nigga, same nigga, thought was a lame nigga
Now I push a Range nigga, you know the name nigga
Peep the Iceberg jeans, the ice chain nigga
And if I got beef I let the whole world know it
So if you got beef let the whole world know it
One, take it to the streets let the whole world know it
It's the chance for your big career, don't blow it
Or get it blown from the top gun nigga
I ain't finished talkin 'bout it 'till ya top gone nigga
Dissin' my crew you catch hot ones
I'm hot son, yo that's why I carry hot guns
I'm on a beach in L.A. f*ckin fly misses
While you niggas at the crib tryna' find misses
Yo I'm gettin' head from the Mexican dime bitches
Them niggas mad cause they riches ain't like my riches

A yo, I'm Murphey Lee the school boy
The civilized jewel boy
I got not one, two, three, four, five, but six whores
For equality, Vokal, Cammy, and Wallabies
I smoke la like daa-da-dee, it got me boomin' like ba-da-bing
Rap, don't gotta sing cause I get my hum on
Actually I get hummed on
Hoes tongues be on my dong dong
Gevity-long, head at night, head in the morn'
Lunatic, five strong, king kong's are writin' songs
Cats be gettin' gone thinkin' they got it goin' on
Folks brought you a brawl, it all started in ya home
Check the background, St. Louis clown from the U-Town
Fourteen, pimp of the year like Dru Down
Same crew now, it's too damn quiet but too loud
Hoes be pretendin' always sayin they too proud
If I ruled the world, I do now
Me and the 'Tics 'bout to rack 'em and move the crowd

Call the cops, I see a robbery in progress
Lunatics about to steal the show
(Where you from?)
From the S-T-L, M-O, 3-1-4

Call the cops, I see a robbery in progress
Lunatics about to steal the show
(Where you from?)
From the S-T-L, M-O, 3-1-4

I rip grass and smash, with a 44 mag
This nigga jag, from the front to the back I heard it crash
Nigga you said you hurt 'em bad, you heard him laugh
Talkin' trash 'bout whoopin' my ass
I never let a nigga do that, who that
Get his brains blew back with a new gat
Yellin' "true that", hollowtips is goin' clean through that
And I didn't have to get my whole team just to do that
In a blue hat, with a black baggy Karl Kani
An iced out ring just to scar on your eye
Hard to die, like Bruce, Lee get a victory
Cats is sick like H-I-V if they feelin' weak
We be Nikki Sacks, Jackie Frost, Scratchy
Danny Terrio, Dutch Schultz, to the Motorola
Money hold up, whippin' the Rover, high roller dog
What you holdin', I'm paid, so controllin' y'all
Yiggidy yes y'all like Das EFX, I's be next
To rep that Midwest, it's sets and projects

Now once Keyaun say hit the safe, raise the stakes
'Tics in fifty states, might as well blaze the cake
I got moves to make, transactions to handshakes
Drugs for papes, now I'm sellin' CDs and tapes
Funerals and wakes caused by greed and hate
A snake is still a snake no matter the size or shape
Those that hate, anchored with weights, found in the lake
Come off the chain my main, you tied to the gate
First you caught a case, second you caught the babes
Third, you caught me with your date, that was no mistake
Good things come to those who wait
So if you waitin' on them 'Tics, huh, they gon' be late
In your house with your spouse I'm doin' the nasty
I'm a felon, ask Jay, I rob industries and ashtrays
Branson and hashy, add gas and wrap somethin'
And burn the place, ya heard me

Watch me load up the ammo, cock it back slow
In the back door, infrared low
Tell me somethin' that I don't already know
Like, which one of these closets contain cash flow
Got three little problems I just thought you should know
Peep, I'm addicted to 'yes' and I'm allergic to 'no'
I'm obsessed with dough, money makin' and the hoes
Anything other than satisfaction gon' blow
Heard through the grapevine you lookin' for me
Couldn't be, cause if it was you would be bookin' from me
Shook when ya see Nelly rollin' in the GS-3
Hangin' out the sunroof like "bing, bing, bing"
Back the car up, pop the trunk now
Can ya hold ya breath cause I'mma flood this town
That ass scream "nine-second-five right here"
Neighbors on the lawn like "Nelly, why right here"

Call the cops, I see a robbery in progress
Lunatics about to steal the show
(Where you from?)
From the S-T-L, M-O, 3-1-4

Call the cops, I see a robbery in progress
Lunatics about to steal the show
(Where you guys from again?)
From the S-T-L, M-O, 3-1-4

Call the cops, I see a robbery in progress
Lunatics about to steal the show
(Tell me again, where you guys from?)
From the S-T-L, M-O, 3-1-4

Call the cops
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, JASON EPPERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © D2 PRO PUBLISHING, Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Interlude

You're off beat
So, I'm jamming, right? And I see her in the background
I'm like, "oh snap"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Floyd Nathaniel Hills, Nelly Kim Furtado, Timothy Clayton, Timothy Z. Mosley
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, OLE MEDIA MANAGEMENT LP, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Ride Wit Me

Where they at [8X]

[Chorus]
If you wanna go and take a ride wit me
We three-wheelin in the fo' with the gold D's
Oh why do I live this way? (Hey, must be the money!)

If you wanna go and get high wit me
Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-y
Oh why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money!)

[Verse 1]
In the club on the late night, feelin right
Lookin tryin to spot somethin real nice
Lookin for a little shorty hot and horny so that I can take home
(I can take home)
She can be 18 (18) wit an attitude
or 19 kinda snotty actin real rude
Boo, as long as you a thicky thicky thick girl you know that it's on
(Know that it's on)
I peep something comin towards me up the dance floor
Sexy and real slow (hey)
Sayin she was peepin and I dig the last video
So when Nelly, can we go; how could I tell her no?
Her measurements were 36-25-34
Yellin I like the way you brush your hair
And I like those stylish clothes you wear
I like the way the light hit the ice and glare
And I can see you moving way over there

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Face and body front and back, don't know how to act
Without no vouchers or boozers she's bringin nuttin back
You should feel the impact, shop on plastic
when the sky's the limit and them haters can't get past that
Watch me as I gas that, 4.6 Range
Watch the candy paint change, everytime I switch lanes
It feel strange now
Makin a livin off my brain, instead of 'caine now
I got the title from my momma put the whip in my own name now
Damn shit done changed now
Runnin credit checks with no shame now
I feel the fame now (come on), I can't complain now (no more)
Shit I'm the mayne now, in and out my own town
I'm gettin pages out of New Jersey, from Courtney B.
Tellin me about a party up in NYC
Can I make it? Damn right, I be on the next flight
Payin cash; first class - sittin next to Vanna White

[Chorus 2X]

[Verse 3]
Check, check -- yo, I know somethin you don't know
And I got somethin to tell ya
You won't believe how many people, straight doubted the flow
Most said that I was a failure
But now the same motherf*ckers askin me fo' dough
And I'm yellin, "I can't help ya"
"But Nelly can we get tickets to the next show?"
Hell no (what's witchu?!) you for real?!

[City Spud]
Hey yo, now that I'm a fly guy, and I fly high
Niggaz wanna know why, why I fly by
But yo it's all good, Range Rover all wood
Do me like you should - f*ck me good, suck me good
We be no stud niggaz, wishin you was niggaz
Poppin like we drug dealers, sippin Crissy, bubb' mackin
Honey in the club, me in the Benz
Icy grip, tellin me to leave wit you and your friends
So if shorty wanna... knock, we knockin to this
And if shorty wanna... rock, we rockin to this
And if shorty wanna... pop, we poppin the Crist'
Shorty wanna see the ice, then I ice the wrist
City talk, Nelly listen; Nelly talk, city listen
When I f*ck fly bitches; when I walk pay attention
See the ice and the glist'; niggaz starin or they diss
Honies lookin all they wish - come on boo, gimme kiss

[Chorus 2X]

Hey, must be the money! [4X]

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ETTERLENE JORDAN, ELDRA DEBARGE, WILLIAM DEBARGE, JASON EPPERSON, CORNELL HAYNES, LEVELL WEBB
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




E.I.

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh, wait a minute now
Uh-oh
Uh, uh
Can y'all hear me out there? (Lunatics)
Uh, uh, is y'all ready? (Up above) let me year you, uh
Uh-oh

I'm a sucker for cornrows and manicured toes (hey)
Fendi capri pants and Parasucos (alright)
The rise of Diddy and City, with one or two throws
I'm dropping 'em outta high school, straight into the pros
Who knows? I know and I love it when you make your knees touch your elbows
And break it down low to the floor, and there you go
Now throw it on me slow
And every time I bust a rhyme, baby, "Gimme Some More" (oh)
You say you like that when I hit it from behind
And I'll be right back, yeah, that's my very next line
I use it time after time when I'm speaking my mind
It's no matter if I'm shooting game to a pigeon or dime
I ask you, "who that is, talking that shit about the 'Tics?"
Somebody probably jealous 'cause they bitch got hit
But ain't nobody else dropping shit like this
Should we apologize? Nah, f*ck 'em, just leave 'em pissed, hey

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

We can gamble to the break of dawn, nigga
Money long, nigga
Pass up the skirt to talk to the thong, nigga
Some say I'm wrong, but f*ck it I'm grown, nigga
And if you ain't 'bout money then best be gone, nigga
I'm flashy (uh) double takes when you walk past me
Nasty, don't be scared boo, go ahead and ask me
I drive fastly, call me Jeff Gordon
In a black SS with the navigation
See the joint blaze on, something smells amazing
I got a chick rolling up half black and Asian
Another one paging, telling me to come over
Her husband on vacation and left her home alone
I used the V-12 powers, weight loss powers
From Phat Farm to Iceberg Slim in one shower
Get a room in Trump Towers just to hit for three hours
Kick the bitch up out the room 'cause she used the word "ours," ayy

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

Ayo, I smash-mouth a whole ounce of that sticky
Watch my hands under a gold spout when feeling icky
Let go off in a hoe's mouth, I ain't picky
Start fronting when the show's out, what you mean?
Twenty inches when they roll out, come and get me
Big faces when they fold out, is you with me?
Don't make me pull that 4-4 out
I keep a close eye when the dough out
And then I slide off in an Esclade
Me and Ky' been solid like the Ice Capades
For me and he Frosty, Roger the Rabbit and Bugsy
You understand me? Wrapped wrist like mummies
If you compare me to your local grocery
Then you'll see I got more carats than Aldi
More bread than aisle G, you can bag and scan me
Sure like Al B., meet the 'Tics in Maui, hey

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

St. Louis y'all, uh, uh (uh-oh)
Uh, can you feel it?
Lunatics, y'all, uh, uh (uh-oh)
Uh, uh, up a-, up above, y'all, uh, uh (uh-oh)
Uh, uh, uh, Universal, y'all, uh, uh (uh-oh)
Uh, uh, chillin', chillin', chillin' with the culture

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh (uh, uh, uh)
What's poppin' tonight? (J.E., y'all, uh, uh)
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night (uh)

Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh (Nelly, uh, uh)
What's poppin' tonight? (Uh)
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night

I'm from M-I (ándale, ándale, mami)
Crooked letter, crooked letter (E.I., E.I., uh-oh)
O-U-R-I, no one can do it better (what's poppin' tonight?)
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
If the head right, Nelly there every night
Ándale, ándale, mami, E.I., E.I., uh-oh
What's poppin' tonight?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Cornell Haynes, Jason Epperson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Thicky Thick Girl

(Chorus)
See now you could be a lady or a bitch girl
But still, Your thicky thicky thicky thick
Lookin like a lolli-pop waitin for the lick girl (for real)
Your thicky thicky thicky thick
Remind me of my 6-4 waitin at the switch girl
Your thicky thicky thicky thick
Could it be a crime that im waiting to commit girl? (come on)
Your thicky thicky thicky thick

Murphy Lee-
So basically I'm a joke right?
Look me in my eyes and tell me if you don't lie
When are you that shoes untied before you know it method
First step we getting naked, pants gone in 20 seconds
It's gettin hectic
Reckage is likea hoopty with insurance
But it seems im behind schedule with bra troubles twistin
& pullin
Im like shorty help me (come on)
Help me (pretty please) don't blow my high, cause I'm too horny
She giggles and gives a horny smile...
so i take advantage
Kissing in gentle places tryin to get myself established
I'm comfortable, wanna be in that moe
With no control
Concentrating on my every lick her every blow
Yep I'm still cold
But cooler than 2 below
And now I got that wrong in the past You'll never know
IT'S ON
Put my penis in accurate
Just relaxing it
Now it's my time to party like the lunatics at a national

(Chorus)

Ali-
Now comes first like the front porch and the polo sports shirts
Skirts there they are thats the one cause Im far
From Average Lane with that "What's your name?" game
I'm stormin on your brain like a surgeon in the rain
Take the fame if u can
Watch me wrap like saran
All up in these sheets
Now u on me like a tan
Keeping me like a van
In reverse that's the worst
Playa curse put up on me now
We spreadin on my hommies like a germ
Watch me turn into captain kill a hoe
Fill a hoe strong
Watch me last long like a penny broke many motels
i got a rich coupon
I'm doing dismounts on foutons
Comin out like Key won
I feel like ceramic in a hammoc
God damn it
Thats my words
Oohs and Aahs Slurred like a verb
Someone acting like an ass like a metaphor
Now I'm headed for the highways
75 southways

(Chorus)

Selling shit out to they ears
Hot tones and telephones
Just to get they bezzle home
Gonna watch my bedrock like flinstones
Son too strong
Try to smoke your sack is fatty sonic
Drive me nuts like planters
Harpin a nigga like offalana(swish)
I ban ya from the smoke house church
Who you think you f*ckin with?
Trying to play me like Jim Carrey
Pull some dumber and dumber shit
Stomp me like a step show (grab ho)
Then i let go (throw) split
That ass like g-strings up on these rat hoes
i pose as a threat
to hit any one of these niggas rats
Split some game and get them burnt
Gonna watch this tag team like free bird
Say the word
I be at rats with all my partners
Straight loungin with a pocket full of rubbers and have it
bouncin
go make the announcment
Smoke like dynamite the good times
Want both girls like prime time
Want real highs and thick thighs take pride in my stylin
Head bustin you be drivin
Got 'em bangin the walls so hard te neighbors callin
Asking you whats

(Chorus) *begins*

Going on over there
Sounds like you guys are going CRAZY
Going going gone

(Chorus) x2
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, LAVELL WEBB
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




For My

[talking through megaphone]
Yo, uh, you didn't see this one comin did ya
All the way from the N.O. to S.T.L.
Nelly-Nel and Lil' Wayne

[Nelly]
On a scale one to ten I be rated a 12 (right!)
You know it and these cats hate it
I got nothing outdated
If it is it's self rated
S-class wit everything voice-activated
Chrome rim three bladed, factory custom made it
Paid wit big faces; if it's broke then replace it
Now it's like that; Purple Haze and Cognac
On tha beach in L.A. with dime bitches ridin my back

[Lil' Wayne]
I represent them street niggas
When they get hot, carry the heat niggas
Them sweet niggas off they feet niggas
You livin on the edge Fleet nigga
That's why my clique we do or die and roll deep nigga
Ain't nothing sweet nigga, recognize the bloody clothes
Ready to represent the Grove wit two calicoes
I carry 4's in my side pocket
While yours cock a nigga mind poppin
Walk through you house wit my iron now when

[Chorus: Nelly (repeat 2X)]

This is for my niggaaassss
Who be keepin it tight
Only lovin dime bitches that f*ck on the first night

This is for my bitchessss
Wit the style and grace
Who ain't hear nothing talkin but the Benjamin face

[Nelly]
I ain't bullshittin I trick em and run up in they kitchen
And she ain't a nonadeada my niggas then I'm splitin
Get a code-red hop in the Jag and fled
Pump +Nore+ number six, "bitch give me some head"
And for you niggas out there who be jacking the wrist
Got a new group for ya, Nina Ross and the Clips
And from the hip I shoot, if you wanna get loot
Bout ta tell ya the truth
I'm more focused I'm born in the Lou'

[Chorus]

[Lil' Wayne]
I ain't no busta nigga
Came up out that Holly Grove dungeon nigga
Flame up and toast let it get sparkin up in here
You don't make out alive very often up in here
I'ma speak on behalf of the C.M.B. partna
I'm a sweep off ya air if its standing beef partna
I skeet off a bag of the dilly-D partna
Slip me on a mask hit the Benz wit three choppers
Weezy-wez partna

[Nelly]
Four karats in my earring, five around my knuckle
Six wrap the wrist, check the belt buckle
Leave them wit it look like Nelly I didn't know
If you was the Jackie Frost why didn't you say so
Somebody gotta shine my nigga why not me
Even my dentist told me floss 7 days a week
Freeza brought out the piece Gucci and hat sweet
Butter soft leather seats for trash talkin' freaks

[Chorus]

[Nelly]
This is for my niggaaaaaaaasssssssss

[talking through megaphone]
Uh, uh, ha bet ya no were ready for that one hu, ha, ha
We know ya didn't see that one comin
Uh, uh ee-yah
Uh, uh wodie
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Cornell Haynes, Dwayne Carter, Jason Epperson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Utha Side

Uhh uh-uh uhh
Yeah, uhh, yo
You wanna come go with me?
My nigga, that ain't no problem
My nigga, c'mon

[chorus: repeat 2X]
I said you don't really wanna go, I can tell
But I'ma take you anyway - what the hell
So come on get on in the ri-iide
And let me take you to the other si-iide

[Nelly]
I said inhale exhale
I heard your clientele is doin well
I see you boomin out the S-T-L
Pushin a five hundred S-L
I heard you even got a child now (look at that)
A baby momma and a bow-wow
My nigga know you need to calm down
F-for County run up in your house
But you don't wanna hear that though, it's too late
Now the feds knocking at your door, you took the bait
They got taps on your mobile phone
They do surveillance all around your home
Now ya pawnin' everything ya own
Calling on your partners for a loan
No more slip and sliding on the chrome
Your good days have come and gone
I tried to tell you

[chorus]

[Nelly]
Now baby girl what's your name?
And tell me what's your claim to fame
Oh I can tell you do your thing
Just by checking out your diamond ring
I see you at the mall every day
Buying Chanelle, Fendi, Donna K'
Plus I heard they took your job away
Ya got ya kids' shit on lay away
You got a 4-5 Infinity (You livin large)
Like your last name was Kennedy or El DeBarge
Oh I just can't believe, that you made that money righteously
The kids asking what they mommy do
And why she lock us in the bedroom
I think mommy getting paid to screw
Cause every night it's a different dude
I tried to tell

[chorus]

[Nelly]
Little man how old are you (you can tell me)
And what you doin skippin school?
I see you running with your lil' crew
Out here fightin over red and blue
So now you wanna claim gangs
Even heard you bought a thumper mayn - and that ain't it
You started out with chronic on the brain
Now you're smokin amphetamines
I ain't tryin to sell your dreams
Just trying to show you, that's it's other ways to make cream
(Take it from me) Just go to school and make somethin of
your young life and watch it blow up
And you ain't gotta stop bein cool
And you ain't even gotta stop flossin fancy jewels (and fast cars)
Just keep it real with your game son
And don't forget were you came from
I'm tryin to tell ya

[chorus to fade]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jason Epperson, Cornell Haynes
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Tho Dem Wrappas

[Nelly]
Uhh, I boss thru in a Hummer, Murphy the Don, Lizzie, Keyuan
With the best thunder than Sean John, you don't want none
Partna I gather up and leave their heads swollen up
On top of all that, I got the rap sewed up
Hold up, with the budda thumpin' niggaz quota
And just the teach a lesson, I put one in ya shoulder
I told ya, 'Tics live for the street life
Eat Right, F*ck good, And reffer thru the Pipe
And give me head all night
And if its some beef, I pumpin lead on sight
until they deceased
I took ya head off right
I live in the Beast
Nigga, where the feds, play sheist
I still floss ice, keep it tight
E-very time, call me the Black Liberace when I'm playing mine
That's how I flow, I gotta get mine, partna, any way it go
Whether it be rapping or with the 4-4

[Chorus x2]
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
F*ck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, go platinum and do shows
And get the Dough....

[Nelly]
My nigga, I can make a million
blind-folded, with no shows
using no flows, just Arm -n- Hammer
And folk O's
Gimmie low does and a Connect, that neva closed
And watch me lock it down from North County to BenRos
F*ck some Mo-Mo's, Gimmie hundereds with soft chrome
On the Navigata equipped to click and log on
I leave that before its gone
'Fore they even bring it home
Matta Fact, I'll tell you whats in the back, its all gone
Two holes in the roof, to let the sun come in
Match it leather carseat, in case my son get in
I spare one off in the back in case he bring his friend
PlayStation just in case a nigga think he can win

[Chorus x2]
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
F*ck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, Go platinium in 2 shows
And get the Dough....

I gotta make a million
Gotta get myself a million
Gonna turn that into a billion
If not, then I just won't die

[Nelly]
I say now, Tho yo wrappers off in tha air
But only if the ice on your wrist cause glares
I'm gettin stares from dime bitches, is he alone
Where's his Mrs., 1-2-3-4-5 bottles of Cris's
on the Table, arms the strong ripp off the Label
No more shows for free, I'm pay-per-view like Cable
They all screamin my name, different shades and race
Take them all backstage and lett'em plead they case
Make a million like Jigga, standin in one place
Sound Scan like Thrilla with out changing my face
They threw the weak plan B
Says who? Says me
Then what's plan A, cause plan B a bad case

[Chorus x2]
Let's make a Million
Keep it real for Triple-0
Eyes low, from plenty Henny and Hydro
F*ck a bitch and some Clothes
I gotta get rich, Go platinium in 2 shows
And get the Dough....

I gotta make a million
Gotta get myself a million
Gonna turn that into a billion
If not, then I just won't die

[Nelly]
All my Midwest niggas tryin to make a mill,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And the Dough-O )
All my Dirty South niggas tryin to make a mill,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And the Dough-O )
All my West Coast niggas tryin to make a mill,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And the Dough-O )
All my East Coast niggas tryin to make a mill,
Tho Dem Wrappas ( And the Dough-O )
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, JASON EPPERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Wrap Sumden

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

You see Biggie be like "What's Beef?"
Me I'm like what's weed?
Weed is actually a medicine for me, you know
Every 4 hours like a prescription I'm smoke
And I'm thanking my reefer chief for making me choke
I'm like one of those half-baked thugs, I'm in love
Then after that roll cool "J's" I mean bud
'Cause I still piss stems and still shit seeds
I spit residue, smoke on my way to buy weed
Wrap Sumden, always I smoke more then Cheech and Chong
My best friend's a bong and my homies is smokers only
I know one day, I'm gone stop
But that'll be the day when my seeds don't pop
You see weed helps me get my thoughts together quick
But on the other hand, as soon as I'm sober I forget
Shit, I'm still stuck at point "A" ya dig
And my momma think that I should quit

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ya I get high
You might see me stroll by
In the Bob Marley tie die with the red eye
I'm sick now, I think I'm catching glaucoma
Standing on the corner, looking for weed donors

You know how we do it kid. We get that good herb and swerve
Till the gas run out, the way we smokes absurd
That's my word, wrap sumden (Wrap Sumden)
Make a nigga clap somthing, get all mad and slap somthing

Yo grab the towels cover the smoke alarms and doors
See I smoke alone, I need grass like lawn mowers
Say dutch time, roll up it's clutch time
And I burn mine, don't you ever ever touch mine

Fire it up dog, but watch out for 5-0
Eyes low from plenty Henny and hydro
F*ck a bitch and some clothes, I gotta get rich
Go platinum and do some shows, and get blowed

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

All I know, is money making hoes and smoking endo
If I wasn't high I'd probably know a little more
But since I don't some might consider me slow
Don't worry though, I keep the pants saggy.
Bubble eye, hands waggy
Eyes glassy, smoking fill from the hash
Choking after that but don't the blunt pass
"What we doin' today" Same shit we did last week
Wake up in the morning and yawn and roll up
Bag up and make some runs and roll up
5-0 behind me my niggas so hold up
Ok made a left you continue to roll up
Don't get me wrong police, yo I stop for them
But guaranteed when they leave I'll be smoking again
Catch my second wind and start in on my next bag
The type of nigga smoke on the way to his rehab

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by

Ayo this is no lie
Me and my niggas gettin' high
Yo if you look up in the sky
You might see us floating by
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CORNELL HAYNES, JASON EPPERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust Ave




Batter Up

[Sports personalities]
Welcome ladies and gentlemen
This is Mark... oh-Who-gives-a-f*ck from '93 TV
This is my co-host, Bob Buttafuoco
(Hey hey guys) Yeah yeah yeah
We got a crowd that's in a frenzy Bob
Let's go down to the announcers for the start of the game

[Stadium announcer]
And now.. please rise for the singing of our national anthem

[Hook: (paraphrasing "The Jeffersons")]

I say the fish don't fry in the kitchen
Beans don't burn on the grill (that's right)
It took a whole lot of tah-ryin
Just to get up that hill
I said but now we're up in the BIG LEAGUES
My dirty it's our turn at bat
And just as long as we livin, it's Lunatics playa
It ain't nuttin wrong with that, huh - batter up

[St. Lunatics]
I'm the first to swing
Home run with that give-me-what-you-got thing, hot wings
F*ck a dub, smoke an ounce, show me love
Hit the club, me and T-Luv holla what
I put my mack down, she throw a curve ball
She owed Milli smoked that herb and some Llly-bone
She tip-top 'em, Optimo
First base, god livin like a worst race
First chase, throw yo' people and yo' kind
Second lesson, smoke that herb and clear yo' mind
It's about time, second base wisdom rhyme
Sittin strong, skipped third base and headed home
Third baseman just don't understand baby what the bong
What the f*ck wrong, with this world today
With these girls today, diamonds and pearls the way
You wasn't f*ckin with me, leave, for the wrap that's in my seed
Now you stays on yo knees cause we's be in the big league
Cause we's be in the big leauge

[Hook]

[Nelly]
Well you should see me now, I'm eatin Wheaties now
I'm stealin second and third and lookin home peepin greedy now
See me now, people call me speedy now
Known for runnin the quickest miles
hit and run in any town, any ground
Rules 'fore I hit it, split it, lick it and quit it
And hit it, lick it, did I say lick it, (yeah) f*ck it, lick it
Ain't no shame in my game, that normal shit ain't my thang
If I think with my dick then put your mouth on my brains
I maintain through the atmosphere, what we got here
A sucka in fear, hear the roars and the cheers
From the crowd when I take the mile, let me show 'em how
Hit the ball on the ground and make 'em get down

[Hook]

[Sports personalities]
Well bob this next young batter on deck
He's still in high school (yeah I heard that)
(It's a great day though)
A good high school out in U-City of St. Louis, Missouri
(I think his name's umm, who knows..
Mur-uhh, Murphey Lee or somethin)

[Murphy Lee]
I want my name not, not said but screamed
I went from fantasies to dreams, dreams to bigger things
I'm like Bennett I been in it since, ninety-three
You can tell cause my L angle 90 degrees
I'ma sixteen year-old school boy, platinum skills
Swear to tell the real, the whole real to make a mill'
I lie little but still, talk straight up like motto
I could tell you somethin now, you think twice about it tomorrow
I promise, I gets deeper than file cabinets when rappin
Money, money, money, money what's happenin
I'm comin up like family members in basements, and I stay bent
Make a milli to play with, buy a building you can pay me
And the 'tic is who I came with
You know how we do, we do, we do, we do, we do, we do

[Hook]

[Sports personalities ad libbing]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JEFF BARRY, JANET DUBOIS, JASON EPPERSON, STEVE WILLS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Never Let Em C U Sweat

Yeah
Gangsta
What
That Gangsta
Yeah
That Gangsta
on the tips
E.I

[The Teamsters]
I was forced to live the crazy life
Y'all niggas don't understand what a day be like
But a son know my Pop's didn't raise me right
When Hennedy don't pay me right
No Baby wipes
Keep the 3-80 tight
The Mercedes dyke
On a shady night
Y'all niggas is lady like
Blow for niggas that'll watch your arm
Run in your crib pop your Mom
Like bitch with stocks and bonds
In the studio a thug wanna lock your calm
Tell a nigga I'm like flex I drop the bomb
You come to war with a switch blade
Get laid
Nigga Imma spit the gauge at your rib cage
We thugged out
Y'all niggas is bitch made
You pick Jay they North white the shit grade
Yor cousin looks mad ready to let the clips spray
Out of a week I stay in a lab for 6 days

[Hook x2]
I run my right guard incase my shot ain't handy
Speed stickin' me and mine
I turn it up a degree
Your secrets still kept
Never let em see you sweat

[Teamsters]
I'm second to none nigga
Yo I'm lettin my gun
Pull this trigger shit off the window
Through the head of your son
I've been runnin' like 20 miles
I ain't sweatin' for fun
Yo it's hard to be a team when the second is one
Cause I follow very
Wanna wife like Halle Berry
Yeah I ain't tryna be locked up under consolitary
Like it don't stop
Nigga I stop for food
How you gonna pop a nigga that pop for you
Hushed out in the drop top
Aqua blue
Get the bitch screamin' "Please, Please, not my boo"
My revolver shook like I deal with smart crook
You know the name
Switch up the game like Garth Brooks
Like ten cars with tire, hoes and and winstars
I been hard through hell better sing God
Diminish, I'm a bull dog, breathing British
You ain't site cause your night show is all about your image

[Hook x2]

[Nelly]
What
I've seen on the bricks of the little front
At colorses, check the ash tray that hold the blunts
We hustling, I do the push ups and the sit ups nigga
Get muscular, just in case you let your lips slip up
I'm bustin ya, never let em see you sweat
Yeah that's my motto, catch em in the club get wrecked
With the bottle, the silencer behind his neck
The others follow
Show them you ain't bullshittin and you ain't hollow
I saw you talkin' to that chick up over there
I heard you ask her why she on my dick, yeah, yeah
I heard it all before ya dig
Next thing you tellin me Nelly
I put that on my f*ckin kid
What you think this is
I'm the reason they invented the whole navigational system
So niggas can't find they trucks and they women when I'm with em
Like I catch em in linen
And then I flip em and run up in em
Send her back to him
And go to his house and blow him with her

[Hook]

Never let em see you sweat
Never let em see you sweat
Never let em
Never let em
To to play this hit out nigga
How nigga!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Cornell Haynes, Donnell Simmons, Jamaul Azziz, Lavell Webb
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Luven Me

Ay yo ma, how you doin, it's ya son now
And I picked up the mic and put the drugs down
Now I'm tryin to do some things that'll make you proud
Instead of everytime I call it's to bail me out
Oh why didn't I listen to things you used to tell me
Knowin that everything that you said would never fail me
Like 'they got plans for ya
Ain't nothin I can do when them laws get they hands on ya'
But I ain't listenin, even payin attention
I'm just tryna get mine
Takin advantage, you would get two jobs at the same time
Ungrateful, complainin about Nike and Polo signs
But you always come through, and what do I do
I wreck both ya cars, stole money from ya drawers
Sold dope out ya yard, stayed into with them laws
Tryin to pay you back for all the stress that I caused
And always be there to give you whatever you want

[Hook]
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, I said whatever you need
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, I said you don't have to worry no more
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, uh, 'cause ya son will be there for you
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, uh

Now verse two, yeah that's for you boo
I send ya props 'cause you the only one that stuck through
When I'm upset and stressed you give me back rubs
When I'm depressed you give me head off in the bathtub, E-I!
On ya P's and Q's, on ya Q's and P's
You hear my beeper goin off and you just throw me my keys
Ain't even askin me yo is it coochie or G's
And for that reason now you can ask me for anything
Not a for real smoker but you choke with me
Not too hot about the drinkin but you toast with me
Livin at ya granny house you kept the dope for me
And wouldn't hesitate to go to court for me
Need money, my boo'll go and work the avenue
My boo'll f*ck you up if I ask her to
That's why I do the things I do
And I will always be there to give you whatever you want

[Hook]
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, I said whatever you need
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, I said I don't wanna lose you no
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, uh, 'cause you're my boo and my only one
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
Uh, uh, uh

I'm doin this one here for Shaun Haynes, Lashando and J.D.
D Quick, Boo Gees and Fatty
My nigga Lil' Erv, Gino and Poochie
and everybody over on Euclid and Labade
Young Big Touch, Pooh and Big Baby
Rio, J.T. and Big Money
Herky Jerk, Wezz and Pea and Cody
J.E., K-Ug and Odie
Toe-Fa, M.J., and Cowlby
And all my soldiers down at Fair Ground on Monday
My Lunatic fam, Keyjuan, Murphy Lee
City Spud, T-Love and Big Lee
Yellow Mack, Slow Down, Courtney B
The rest of my niggas up in the N.Y.C.
And without Trail, Kuda and Coach it just wouldn't be
And I will always be there to give you whatever you want

(Don't stop ever lovin me)
I said whatever you need
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
'Cause y'all my niggas for life you know
(Don't stop ever lovin me)
You can always smoke with me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ALBERT VERNON HUDSON, CARL WHEELER, DWAYNE P. WIGGINS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Back to: Nelly


Country Grammar is the debut studio album by American rapper and singer Nelly. It was released on June 27, 2000, by Universal Records. The production on the album was handled by Jason "Jay E" Epperson, with additional production by C-Love, Kevin Law, City Spud, Steve "Blast" Wills and Basement Beats. Nelly contributed to all lyrics on the album, with Epperson and City Spud also contributing. With the album's release, Nelly and his "St. Lunatics” crew cemented the St. Louis sound firmly amongst other southern hip hop artists in the year 2000, such as Juvenile, Trina, Ludacris, OutKast, Three 6 Mafia and UGK. Country Grammar also introduced the world to Nelly's unique musical style of pop-rap and radio "singalongs” with a Missouri twang. It was supported by four successful singles: "Country Grammar (Hot Shit)", "E.I.", "Ride wit Me" and "Batter Up". Its lead single, "Country Grammar (Hot Shit)", peaked at number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 and UK Singles Chart. Its second single "E.I." peaked at number 16 on the Hot 100, number 12 on the UK Singles Chart and number 11 on the ARIA Singles Chart. "Ride wit Me" peaked within the top five on the Hot 100, ARIA Singles Chart, Irish Singles Chart and UK Singles Chart. The album's fourth and final single, "Batter Up" featuring St. Lunatics members Murphy Lee and Ali, achieved moderate chart success.

Country Grammar received positive reviews, with critics praising Nelly's vocal style and the album's production. It topped the US Billboard 200 chart for five consecutive weeks, and the US Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart for six consecutive weeks. It peaked in the top five on the New Zealand Albums Chart and Australian Albums Chart, as well as the top ten on the Canadian Albums Chart and Dutch Albums Chart. The album was certified three times platinum by the Recording Industry Association of New Zealand (RIANZ) and Music Canada (MC). The former denoted shipments of 45,000 copies while the latter denoted 300,000 copies.

In 2016, Country Grammar became the ninth hip hop album to be certified Diamond by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), denoting shipment of 10 million copies in the US. Its commercial success secured Nelly's status as one of the most successful hip hop acts of the 2000s decade. On Billboard's decade-end chart, Nelly ranked as the third most successful act of the 2000s decade, due largely to the success of Country Grammar and his follow-up album Nellyville (2002).
Performed By: Nelly
Genre(s): Hip hop, pop rap
Producer(s): Jason "Jay E" Epperson, City Spud, Steve "Blast" Wills, Basement Beats
Length: 66:35
Released: June 27th, 2000
Year: 2000

Tags:
No tags yet