Quit Hatin' the South

Uh! It's really goin' down in the South, bitch

Yeah, nigga

We know hip-hop and rap and all that shit started in the motherfuckin' East, knalmsayin'?

Then it went to the West coast, and they did it a little bit better, knalmsayin'?

But now it's our time to shine down here, nigga, knalmsayin'?

So since y'all niggas keep sayin' we ain't real hip-hop down here

We don't wanna be down with you bitch ass niggas!

So y'all stay up there with that bullshit!

This country rap tunes down here, nigga!

Young Pimp, Young Bun, Underground Kingz

All the O.G.'s that's recognizing the real, I got love for y'all

But all you bitch ass niggas talkin' down in ya records, you can eat a dick!

Hold up!

Pushin' cocaine, syrup, and pounds of weed (pounds of weed, pussy nigga)

Steady stayin' on the grind (steady grinding, stay in the studio, nigga)

Pussy nigga can't say he ain't hating me (I know you hating me, bitch, hold up)

Because if you did, then you wouldn't be lying (hold up)

But how in the hell am I supposed to respect the man? (If it ain't respected, it ain't respected)

That talk down on every song (I hear you talkin' down, nigga)

You steady actin' like a bitch, you steady cryin' your eyes out (stop crying, bitch)

Say my name pussy nigga, we can get the shit on, on

Ooh, yeah! (Knalmtalkin"bout?)

Quit hatin' the South (baby)

We gettin' paper in the South (gettin' money)

Quit hatin' the South (baby)

Quit hatin' the South (uh, hold up)

Well, it's been a long time, my nigga, I shouldn't have left you (I shouldn't have left)

With some real trill shit to go left to

Gotta lot of respect fool (yeah) for the ones before me

But when my time came, they act like they ain't know me

I've been down with rap music since Cold Crush and Melle (Melle)

Before MTV put Run-D.M.C. on the tele (tele)

Back when Whodini tried to tell ya about ya friends

Nigga, I was giving rap all my time and my ends

Bought damn near every record the motherfucker dropped

West coast gangsta music, East coast hip-hop

Now it's our time to shine and the tables is turned

Them motherfuckers aggravated 'cause we gettin' some burn

"There's no room for everybody, just a few niggas is swole" (why is that?)

Probably 'cause they favorite rappers ain't in control

But just let go of the past 'cause it's hurtin' your hands

And pass it over to the next generation of fans and-

Quit hatin' the South (baby)

We gettin' paper in the South (gettin' money)

Quit hatin' the South (baby)

Quit hatin' the South (uh, hold up)

I'm blastin' off on you hoes like NASA

You double standards and hypocrisy, remind me of Massa

We ain't good enough to eat at ya table but when ya dick get hard

You wanna run up in our broads

I'm from the ghetto but I'm still clockin' figures

Bitch, ho, cocksuckin' nigga

And that goes for all you visitors too

If you don't like it down here, get the fuck on, fool

They say you can't rap and they questionin' our intellect

Friendly ass niggas jumpin, bad on the internet

Ain't nobody typing that much, can't be a danger

Catch you in person, bitch, I'll break yo' fingers

It's some trash in the South, but I promise you

From the East to the West, some of y'all garbage too

As long as the beat knock and the lyrics hot, son

I can give a rat's ass where a rapper is from

I remember N.W.A. and PE

Had me feelin' like a rapper was the thing to be

You can't fuck with Willie D, UGK either

Disrespecting the code, jealous motherfuckers need to

Quit hatin' the South (baby)

We gettin' paper in the South (gettin' money)

To all the radio, T.V, and even the press

That's been hatin' on the Sizz-outh like we ain't fresh

Y'all think we came here to play, say man we came here to stay

Y'all shoulda listened to Andre, bitch, we got somethin' to say

And all you washed up rappers, you ain't what it's about

I see y'all tryna rap like us and puttin' grills in ya mouth

Y'all buy the beat, buy the beat, like y'all bouncin' and twerkin'

But ho, we know what's goin' on and bitch that bullshit ain't workin'

I'ma O.G. Rock Ball, write my name up on the wall

Fuck yo' bitch and hit the switch and put my dick up in her jaw

I'm Sweet Jones, fuck a clone, legend on the microphone

Player's choice, silky voice, keep yo' bitch's pussy moist

I bump that Screw, that's how I do, sippin' drank, Byzantine link

In Benz, big blue lens, knock this bitch and fuck with her friend

Candy car, exquisite mouth, bought the ranch, man, fuck the house

And y'all still gotta buy y'all dope from us, so what the fuck you bitch niggas talkin' 'bout?

All you ole sensitive ass niggas! Knalmtalkin"bout?

Y'all niggas on y'all period up there bitch!

Knalmtalkin"bout? Y'all hide behind them e-mail addresses

Sending that bullshit through the air

Bitch! Say my name bitch, I'ma come to ya house!

Fuck how you feel, country rap tunes nigga!

They put all y'all records on one side of the store

And put all the country rap music on the other side of the store

And see who sell out first, bitch ass nigga!

It's ya own fault ya shit ain't sellin'

You reap what you sow!

Fuck you in ya pussy!

Keep talkin' that shit, them young gladiators go come get you too, partner!

Already, UGK for life, fuck how you feel about it bitch!

Young Pimp