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 Know I'm sayin'? Then it went to the West coast And they did it a little bit better Know I'm sayin'? But now it's our time To shine down here nigga Know I'm sayin'? So since y'all niggaz keep sayin' We ain't real hip hop down here We don't wanna be down with you bitch ass niggaz 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 recognizin' the real I got love for y'all but all you bitch ass niggaz Talkin' down in ya records, you can eat a dick Hold up Pushin' cocaine, servin' pounds of weed Steady stayin' on the grind Pussy nigga can't say he ain't hatin' me Because if you did, then you wouldn't be lyin' But how in the hell am I supposed to respect the man? That talk down on every song You steady actin' like a bitch, you steady cryin' your eyes out Say my name pussy nigga, we can get the shit on, on, ooh yeah Quit hatin' the South, baby We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money Quit hatin' the South, baby Quit hatin' the South Well, it's been a long time my nigga, I shouldn't have left you When I some real trill shit to go left to Gotta lot of respect fool, 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 Before MTV put Run-D.M.C. on the tele Back when Whodini tried to tell ya about ya friends Nigga I was givin' 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 niggaz is swole 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, getting' money Quit hatin' the South, baby Quit hatin' the South 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 with (Incomprehensible) I from the get coke but I'm still clockin' figures Bitch hoe cock suckin' 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 niggaz jumpin' bad on the Internet Ain't nobody typin' 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 rap 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 Disrespectin' the code, does motherfuckers neither Quit hatin' the South, baby We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money To all the radio, TV and even the press Been hatin' on the Sizz-outh like we ain't impress Y'all think we came in the place, say man we came in the state 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 tryin' rap like us and puttin' grills in ya mouth Y'all buy the beat, buy the beat like y'all bouncin' and twerkin' But hoe 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, fucked a clone, legend on the microphone Player's choice, silver Royce, keep yo' bitch's pussy moist I'm bumped the school, that's how I do, sippin' drank, each teen night In Benz, big blue lens, knock this bitch and fuck with her friend Candy cart, squeeze 'em out, bought the ranch man fuck the house And y'all still gotta buy y'all dope from us So what the fuck you bitch niggaz talkin' 'bout? All you ole sensitive ass niggaz, know I'm talkin' 'bout? Y'all niggaz on y'all period up there bitch Know I'm talkin' 'bout? y'all hide behind them e-mail addresses Sendin' 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 sew and 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