text: Bitch, I aint got nothing but time
  So Imma get out on these cuts and grind
  Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine
  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes
  See Imma shine like all six of my gold teeth
  When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z
  All night on the block til the sun rise
  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5
  Four, five in the mornin, it dont stop
  Daydreamin bout flossin a drop top 
  Blue lights snap me back to reality
  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me
  Tricks aint got shit to do but harass
  Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash
  I guess thats better than gettin locked up
  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!
  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
  Down in the bottoms where they broke some
  Whips cross a nigga back, way back
  And now they wonder why we act, how we act
  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow
  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
  People barbecuein in the front yard
  Money from the first of the month card!
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  I got a maid cooking grits with a, outfit
  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite
  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee
  Nigga drunk singin sounding like the Bee Gees
  Ham samich in the driveway, drop top
  Naked women in the den playing, hop scotch
  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone
  So hit me and Imma keep my, phone on
  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth
  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip
  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times
  If I diss her itll take a nigga, ten lines
  MJG standing tall and I, wont fold
  You can have all the bitches, cause I, dont hold
  On to any woman like a human handcuff
  You got ya hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!
  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
  Down in the bottoms where they broke some
  Whips cross a nigga back, way back
  And now they wonder why we act, how we act
  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow
  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
  People barbecuein in the front yard
  Money from the first of the month card!
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical bows
  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST or a thorn from stem of rose
  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when yall bite
  Been had a Coke and a smile, now Im trippin off Yak & Sprite
  Yall just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked thighed
  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what Im talkin about
  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah
  The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what Im after
  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious
  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major
  They shot the sucka, sprayed ya, cut ya wife and played her
  The player the B-I-G B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker
  Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you
  And if you hate the Dirty, then patna, see we dont need you
  You know Im talkin bout?
  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on yall punk motherfuckers!
  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
  Down in the bottoms where they broke some
  Whips cross a nigga back, way back
  And now they wonder why we act, how we act
  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow
  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
  People barbecuein in the front yard
  Money from the first of the month card!
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  You wouldnt understand, if you stood under it 
  Its like the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get
  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand
  Apart, distant
  Nobody has the upper hand but my bodys resistant
  So now, throw your phalanges in the ground
  Im still abound, un-believers stay from hell around
  I found negative niggas they only keep ya down
  Transmitting from Native American burial ground
  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads
  Im post to blast, space invaders up somebodys dad
  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc
  If knowledge be the key then buddy roasted on the porch
  And wait for ya momma to get off work so she can roast yo ass
  They need to find an open window fast
  Word to the motherfucker; word to the motherfucker
  Word to the motherfucker!
  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
  Down in the bottoms where they broke some
  Whips cross a nigga back, way back
  And now they wonder why we act, how we act
  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow
  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
  People barbecuein in the front yard
  Money from the first of the month card!
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up