SOUTH OF FRANCE (REMIX) Lyrics by Future
Pluto
South of France, just drinkin’ mud, nigga
No matter how rich I get, I still feel like a hood nigga, Pluto
Call back to the city, bullets flyin’
Posted on Front Street, start servin’ dimes
On the way to buy a square, re-rock, a nine
I was in lil’ Mexico, once upon a time
I started off in these streets, young niggas dyin’
I done seen a nigga get what’s supposed to come to him
You catch a nigga off guard, you better run through him
All the good I manifested came true
Gotta talk about my dark days so you can see my light
Get distracted lookin’ at the ice, send the European on flights
Try flyin’ in my rifle, all the foreigns came with a title
Some shit a nigga would’ve killed for, same things don’t excite us
New level of life from a whole ‘nother perspective
The trenches look a little different when you in the inside of the Spectre
The stars came in the door, that’s how I know this one is special
Some things I can’t rap about, wish I knew this was my destiny
South of France, just drinkin’ mud, nigga (Ayy)
No matter how rich I get, I still feel like a hood nigga (Ayy, ayy, yeah)
South of France, just drinkin’ mud, nigga (Ayy, yeah)
No matter how far you go, you still gon’ find a hood nigga (Ayy, ayy, yeah)
South of France, it ain’t no Ocean Drive (Drive)
Three hundred feet, size of the whip, you see an ocean dry (See me slide)
South of France to see some bitches, but be wet inside (Splashin’)
Southside, when we pour the drink, we let the system yank (Yank)
Southwest Airline, Southside plane to make a shorty plank (Plank)
Told the captain, “Find a place and empty out the tank” (Okay)
713 ’round the world, I think that shit my main (That’s my bae)
Plus three-three under her name, plus six for all my mains, yeah (Straight up)
South of France, a movie out in Cannes
Thinkin’ ’bout nights in the Mo’, I need some more again (Again)
Like Big Moe again, I’m pourin’ twin in slow motion (Again)
Her body, rock her body, let her touch, no holdin’ hands (Holdin’)
Another four again at 4 A.M. with four of them (Four of them)
They all Colombian, I’m strugglin’ to keep up with them (I really am)
We crash the party, pack some bodies, like to rub it in (Spread it on ’em)
We pack the yachty, “FBJack” the code to get ’em in (Swim), let ’em in, yeah (Pluto, Jack, it’s lit)
South of France, just drinkin’ mud, nigga
No matter how rich I get, I still feel like a hood nigga (Pluto)
South of France, just drinkin’ mud, nigga
No matter how far you go, you still gon’ find a hood nigga