Y'all buy the beat, buy the beat like y'all bouncin' and twerkin'
Quit hatin' the South
From the East to the West, some of y'all garbage too
Y'all shoulda listened to Andre, bitch we got somethin' to say
Quit hatin' the South, baby
Back when Whodini tried to tell ya about ya friends
To all the radio, TV and even the press
If you don't like it down here, get the fuck on fool
You can't fuck with Willie D, UGK either
But hoe we know what's goin' on and bitch that bullshit ain't workin'
There's no room for everybody, just a few niggaz is swole
Know I'm sayin'? Then it went to the West coast
Pussy nigga can't say he ain't hatin' me
Disrespectin' the code, does motherfuckers neither
They put all y'all records on one side of the store
I can give a rat's ass where a rap is from
Fuck yo' bitch and hit the switch and put my dick up in her jaw
Because if you did, then you wouldn't be lyin'
Them young gladiators go come get you too partner
I see y'all tryin' rap like us and puttin' grills in ya mouth
Now it's our time to shine and the tables is turned
Probably 'cause they favorite rappers ain't in control
We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money
Before MTV put Run-D.M.C. on the tele
I remember N.W.A. and PE
And put all the country rap music on the other side of the store
And y'all still gotta buy y'all dope from us
And all you washed up rappers, you ain't what it's about
But when my time came they act like they ain't know me
West coast gangsta music, East coast hip hop
To shine down here nigga
Quit hatin' the South, baby
Sendin' that bullshit through the air
You steady actin' like a bitch, you steady cryin' your eyes out
But how in the hell am I supposed to respect the man?
Quit hatin' the South, baby
Player's choice, silver Royce, keep yo' bitch's pussy moist
Young Pimp, Young Bun, Underground Kingz
Hold up
This country rap tunes down here nigga
Bought damn near every record the motherfucker dropped
We gettin' paper in the South, getting' money
Know I'm sayin'? But now it's our time
As long as the beat knock and the lyrics hot, son
Had me feelin' like a rapper was the thing to be
Bitch, say my name bitch, I'ma come to ya house
We ain't good enough to eat at ya table but when ya dick get hard
Friendly ass niggaz jumpin' bad on the Internet
But just let go of the past 'cause it's hurtin' your hands
Quit hatin' the South, baby
Quit hatin' the South
So y'all stay up there with that bullshit
And all that shit started in the motherfuckin' East
And they did it a little bit better
You wanna run up with [Incomprehensible]
They say you can't rap and they questionin' our intellect
Nigga I was givin' rap all my time and my ends
That talk down on every song
Y'all think we came in the place, say man we came in the state
We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money
And pass it over to the next generation of fans
Steady stayin' on the grind
I'm blastin' off on you hoes like NASA
We ain't real hip hop down here
I'ma O.G. Rock Ball, write my name up on the wall
Candy cart, squeeze 'em out, bought the ranch man fuck the house
Them motherfuckers aggravated 'cause we gettin' some burn
Gotta lot of respect fool, for the ones before me
Know I'm sayin'? So since y'all niggaz keep sayin'
When I some real trill shit to go left to
Been hatin' on the Sizz-outh like we ain't impress
It's some trash in the South but I promise you
Say my name pussy nigga, we can get the shit on, on, ooh yeah
Know I'm talkin' 'bout? Y'all hide behind them e-mail addresses
In Benz, big blue lens, knock this bitch and fuck with her friend
You reap what you sew and fuck you in ya pussy
Well, it's been a long time my nigga, I shouldn't have left you
Catch you in person, bitch I'll break yo' fingers
I've been down with rap music since Cold Crush and Melle
And see who sell out first
Ain't nobody typin' that much can't be a danger
And quit hatin' the South, baby
We don't wanna be down with you bitch ass niggaz
Fuck how you feel, country rap tunes nigga
Bitch ass nigga, it's ya own fault ya shit ain't sellin'
And that goes for all you visitors too
Already, UGK for life, fuck how you feel about it bitch
Pushin' cocaine, servin' pounds of weed
All you ole sensitive ass niggaz, know I'm talkin' 'bout?
All the O.G.'s that's recognizin' the real
So what the fuck you bitch niggaz talkin' 'bout?
You double standards and hypocrisy remind me of Massa
I got love for y'all but all you bitch ass niggaz
Bitch hoe cock suckin' nigga
I'm bumped the school, that's how I do, sippin' drank, each teen night
I'm Sweet Jones, fucked a clone, legend on the microphone
Y'all niggaz on y'all period up there bitch
Talkin' down in ya records, you can eat a dick
Keep talkin' that shit
I from the get coke but I'm still clockin' figures
