Lyrics:

We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off

Uhhh.. this nigga no games (no games)
With my Hanes tee shirt with a pick and roll chain (chain, chain...)
Durag, baby blue 'Lac
85 South - don't drive it too fast (too fast)
My niggas don't roll no phillies
Get a big box of them brown Dutches (brown Dutches)
We don't want no brand new car
Tell Brandon “lemme get them keys to the Cutlass” (Cutlass)
Represent for the M-I-L, the A-T-L, the Naptown (Naptown)
Stay smokin’ that smackdown
Keep myself a lil half-pound (half-pound)
You know B. Stille in the cut
On the back po'ch Jig grillin’ it up (what, what)
Black folks just livin’ it up
Court next week not givin’ a fuck (uh, uh)
What's up? Chrome spinnin’
Only rap to them grown women (grown women)
Stay high, we'll play shy
Least till I can get home wit’em (home wit’em)
Shorty whattchu thinkin’ whattchu drinkin’?
Thinkin’ it is what it ain't (what it ain’t)
I can’t be trickin’ so don't be trippin’
Thinkin’ I can when I can’t come on


Nigga hooked it up, like the waitress from the IHOP
Nothin but the grits, steak, and egg with that
Waitin for the five dollar pancake, front-back side to side
Impala, country boy, Cadillac, cat sick in the Monte Carlo
All clean (twenty inches) at the seam (plenty chickens)
Get the green (split the swishers) at the Beam (shit done seem)
Craziest muh'fucker, what y'all niggas do for cream
Never knock the hustle scheme, only what the cheddar bring
Hate, fake-niggas, hoes, envy, greed, jealousy
Cain't take what a nigga make type of enemy
Smilin' in my face but they really ain't no friend to me
Cain't wait, send em eight straight nine milli-mee
Aww hell naw, y'all niggas ain't feelin me!
Colt 45 e'rytime like Billy D
Ninety-five (?) leave through Tennessee
Quarter pound with the Crown fuckin wit my memory


Peanut butter (Rag-tops) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(String beans) pork chops - what's fuckin wit that?!
Dime sack (with the gnac') - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin with that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Every Chevy (on dubs) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(Jodi-Bodi) strip clubs - what's fuckin wit that?!
Nappy Roots (hey dawg) - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?!

Come down to the country, you won't wanna go back
Vertical grills in front of the 'Lac
Blunts rolled so fat, put one in my back
Plus a buncha country boys wit gats, you don't want none-a that
Keep - my nine - right beside me, at all times
Cuz I be in the line, like somma these niggas you find
Don't want you to shine, right yea..

From the side and nine-to-nine
Roll around here somethin tryna sell mine
Lord know but I got a dime early time
Got me feelin to', now my Eggo's cold
See I'm a country boy (Huh?) Close the door (Huh?)
Clinton and Gore (Huh?) Y'all been warned (Huh?)
Guns and more - better hit the floor
Them yeggaz want ya cuz they comin in with them laws

Fuck - yo life; buck - my chife
And I got my ride, fool, I'm ready to ride
For my yeggaz I'mma bring it to you dead or alive

Yeah that's fa sho' ya better know that
You a nasty ho, ya better show that
Got a quiet lil' spot we can go at
And if you ain't wit that, we can show you where the do' at



*music to fade*