text: This is Mystikal and Outkast
  Im representin
  Im out for the big bucks and NO WHAMMIES, goddammit
  You cant stand it!
  Make em feel the impact and I aint even in Miami
  Handlin with my man nem in Atlanta
  And they payin me cause they know I bring the kinda shit you feelin as Im sayin it
  Im like the NBA sore thumb
  Or a pawn shop Tec 9, bitch, Im known for jammin
  Smoke Mary, Mary, Mary
  Put a mean ass flow on top of bad vocabulary
  I bust through, intrude, move through distractions
  Withstand hits and blows, dont lose no traction
  I threw a round off flip flop flip flop back at em
  If a nigga come in clown then Im gon get the cannon
  And then get God back
  Knuckle up boy, dont be no fuck boy
  Me and Guillotine we run some niggas in a big truck boy
  Run flat boy, run that boy
  Bitch, where Imma send you, you cant come back, boy
  I bring flames to a four alarm fire
  I wash him up and wring him out, now throw him in the dryer
  I hit the door, Im blowin him like Southern band
  And they always tryin to find something to say about the brotherman
  I invent em, flip em, and send em
  Rhymes get jumped off like I pulled King Kong for ya
  Guess what? This is a stick-up
  Give me back my shit before I start pickin bricks up
  Garbage MCs better run for it
  Dont come this way cause you cant walk on this side of the yard forty
  And respect me for takin it to em
  So expect me to lay it down and represent my neck of the woods
  Yeah, like that, ha ha, ha ha, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Mystikal and OutKast, ha ha
  If it dont bump off in the club, you cant rock
  If it aint 808 in the trunk, it aint knock
  If you round our neck of the woods, you better stop
  Cause the people on the block gonna show you where to drop, ahhhh
  Call me the Heat Miser, the beat riser
  The nigga that spit that street fire
  Mystikal, André, and Big Boi taking em out of the park like Mark McGwire
  Sosa, you so so, your rhymes are small like Toto
  Youre bitchmade like Dorothy, you belong in a sorority
  Imma call you Cocoa, or Candy
  Go sing a song with Brandy
  Quit rhymin and double timin, what is you sayin, G?
  Im taking my thirteenth shot of Cuervo Gold
  My style is drunken
  And you know we doin the beat big, oh hell yeah, its gonna be bumpin
  Giving you something to beat the block with, with the cops swift
  My staminas incredible, so sucka, dont try to stop this
  The D-U-N-G-E-O-N Family, merrily
  Life is but a dream, I mean a nightmare cause its scaring me
  But I live, gotta give, one-double-O percent above the rest Yeah, Daddy Fat Sacks gon burst, and you know that, YEAH
  Yeah, know that, East Point never stop like that
  All the way to Decatur
  If it dont bump off in the club, you cant rock
  If it aint 808 in the trunk, it aint knock
  If you round our neck of the woods, you better stop
  Cause the people on the block gonna show you where to drop, ahhhh
  Hey, whats your name?
  André 3000, the year to fear is already here
  Must look beyond, sounds from the center of the sun
  Reason for a gun, only one
  Strong believer in self-preservation
  In the State of confused
  City of forgotten fate, County of the blues
  Street address Generation X Avenue
  But Generation Y high to the point
  That a joint wont anoint a new one
  Walking in my silver boots, need a shoehorn and some church socks
  What if I told you he manipulate clocks?
  Stops, time rewinds, see what he finds
  Then re-arrange and change things thats on your mind
  Would you swallow like fine wine or peanut butter?
  Would you holler that Im lying and ask another?
  Or pay no heed and run for cover?
  If it dont bump off in the club, you cant rock
  If it aint 808 in the trunk, it aint knock
  If you round our neck of the woods, you better stop
  Cause the people on the block gonna show you where to drop, ahhhh