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

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