text: Aye, aye Bun who did this man?
  So you mean you got, T.I.P., Killer Mike, Lil Jon and Bun B
  So thats the King of the South.. the Underground King..
  The King of Crunk.. and King Kong all on the same song
  Haha.. aye Jon, they aint ready
  We taking it on back to the trap my nigga!
  I got them bows on my lac - swervin on these niggas!
  I got the ho up in the back - bumpin niggas figgaz!
  I got the weed in my sack - smokin on that killa!
  In the hood where Im at - trappin with my niggas!
  I got the NEW NEW... 
  NEW NEW... 
  NEW NEW... 
  NEW NEW... 
  Man we been throwin raps for too long
  Aye whatchu wanna do homes?
  Im finna pull this heat and have you fetal like a new-born
  T.I.P., Mike, and Bun B - scared whatchu better be
  We was just the kings, now we heads of a legacy
  Leaders of the new south, fake niggas move out
  He talkin loud and proud, but he scared with a tool out
  Im the nigga they be askin what we gon do bout?
  Mike told me fuck them niggas, bring that New New out
  Tank the Chevy, buy the Caddie, bring the 22s out
  Put the city back on top, just seperate the fools now
  We had lots of misrepresentation but hey we cool now
  Cant keep playin both sides of the fence, you got to choose now
  The realest of the real or the fakest of the fake
  If ya got it on ya chest, shawty say it to my face
  When ya hold ya nuts in hatred, ya only rushin til ya wait
  And we gon show them people what it really is in the A
  Straight from Atlanta, the hog hand-ler
  Grown folk trap, scramb-ler
  Knee deep, means to get them Gs to my manager
  My mack-10 made for action, body-baggin and throat braggin
  Ill drag em threw the river like a bad yellow nigga
  Im mashin with pops fashion, bustin first no questions askin
  You gon off that waterboat and thinkin you can hold me
  Im, King Kong on every track, no cap-sule can hold me
  Ill THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP, when I BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP!
  Its woofers, tweeters, speakers, geekers, ALL IN YO TRUNK!
  My dad aint raise no fag, my mom aint had no punk
  We dont hesitate or negotiate, we pop Chevy trunks
  From the home of Coca-Cola, Im not referrin to soda
  Imma grind til I shine, or die going for mine
  SIG Sauer by my side, swervin and blowin pine
  Dont be a victim to a Killer, be a father to ya son
  This Re-Akshon, Killa Kill, T.I.P., and Bun
  Bitch Im coming live from the trunk and I thrive on the funk
  Cuz Id rather die like a man than survive like a punk
  Im no coward, Im dro-powered, you gettin Twin-Towered
  Devoured - its a shit-storm and you bout to get showered
  From Broward county to Harris, Pasadena to Paris
  I embarrass niggas on chrome wheels as big as the ferris
  Cuz there is, now way now how - I stay low-key, low-brow
  In that black on black on black in the lac cuz Im so wild
  I get, drunk off that, Ill be high off this
  I might pop one of those, it dont matter my nigga - I dont miss
  They put me hot on list, where players are posted
  But them players we posted up on corners, when they say and get roasted
  And the prayer get toasted, cuz I keep the flame on
  The face for the game on - leave a stain on anything I puts my name on
  Disrespect and the techll peck a player like Woody
  Cuz caint nuttin keep a trill nigga down, ask Khujo Goodie
  All I gotta say is sucker emcees better run
  The debate is now, whos the greatest emcee?
  T.I.P., Killer Mike, or Bun?
  We are not doing this for fun - this is a bloodsport
  Emcees are dying, mothers are crying
  And wack-ass niggas will go out trying
  It is officially a new day, I am officially the new mouth
  AND THESE ARE THE EMCEES OF THE NEW SOUTH!!