DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince Lyrics

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From Da South Lyrics

"From Da South" was written by Will Smith, Jeffrey Townes, Craig King, Bobby Robinson, G. Jackson.
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"From Da South" was written by Will Smith, Jeffrey Townes, Craig King, Bobby Robinson, G. Jackson.
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Right here, right.
(Yep)
When I was a young boy growing in Philly, I
Was sort of easy going, I
Was really a silly I
I used to mess around
I was kind of the class clown
I hate to see you frown
I hate to see people down
'Cause I like it when fun flows like a faucet (uh)
But sometimes, some guys mistake it for softness
But I ain't no silly sappy singin softy
When push comes to shove, ya better back up off me
'Cause I am 6'2 and I ain't no little guy
200 pounds and homie I can make the heads fly
My father told me never hit nobody first
But if they hit you son (Yeah), take them to a hearse
So throughout my life those are the rules that I've lived by
A sucker put his hands on me homie I'll give a guy
A jab, jab, jab, uppercut, jab
Get 'em a steaks slab
And put 'em in a cab (Uh)
Now I ain't the type of brother to go out and pick a fight
But man, man I really, really, hate to hear stuff like
Michael Jackson said, "this sorta thing silly man..."
A lover not a fighter, better stay out a Philly man.
Put up your dukes, so you better start boogen
A sick upper punch when you lunchin' and ain't lookin'
An mx uppercut, aim for the mouth
Not from the north, or the east, or the west, it's comin'
From da south
And I'm throwing it hard
From da south
Right up under your guard
From da south
An uppercut with all I got
(Watch them drop!)
Put up you dukes; it's time to get loose troop
101, with me and you, and me and you're whole crew
You heard about the uppercut is that's what's wrong fellas
You're all chickens and for doers getting jealous
Fail one bang 'em
Rumble and all buggin'
All different names but all the same buggin'
Maybe you can take me out, yeah maybe not
'Cause fly into the uppercut (Here they come) and hear you're body shout
Boom shakala laka Boom shaka laka Boom!
Look out
It's coming at you like a Kodak zoom
No, my name ain't Roberta, don't be giving me flak
And if you step off track, Jack,
You're taking a turn, nap
A muscle bound sucker, mean jack to Will
When I walk on by better be glad I chill
But if y'all forfeit and I feel friction
The landlord is givin' ya teeth dental piction
X's over eyes and birds around ya heads, flyin'
Limp all back
Look like I hit you with a bat
Eyes so black (diggy, diggy)
Look like ya must a got em painted
Damn!
That uppercut's a mother ain't it
Step in the ring
With the king
And you take a chance
'Cause 20 seconds later y'all be out in a ambulance
Lookin pathetic
As you wrestle paramedic
What's up?
Felt like a truck
But it was only an uppercut
Jus last week some fool got careless (Yeah)
So I got triflin'
Went right for the bare fist
After the punch the young man didn't want a fight
I missed his face
But I busted the stoplight
So put up you're dukes, so you better start bookin'
A sick upperpunch
When you munchin'
And ain't lookin'
An mx uppercut aim for your mouth
Not from the north, or the east, or the west, it's comin'
From da south
And I'm throwin' it hard
From da south
Right up under you're guard
From da south
And uppercut with all I got
(Watch them drop!)
Yeah
Word
(There you go)
Come, come come on....

Songwriters
WILL SMITH, JEFFREY TOWNES, CRAIG KING, BOBBY ROBINSON, G. JACKSON

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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