[00:00.000] 作曲 : Bush, CunninLynguists, Eames ...
[00:38.42]We flavor the music, chop this screw that
[00:41.10]Take you through church in a verse til you view fact
[00:43.58]Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility
[00:45.97]Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity
[00:48.24]We own rap fo sho as Cognac’ll twist yo dome back
[00:50.90]Our tracks? See, they be nappy but you can’t comb that
[00:53.25]Call it el natural sound of soul
[00:55.26]You ain’t seen these darts or how fast they’ve flown
[00:57.96]From, ‘tween these parts and the ones ‘nere known
[01:00.17]My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes
[01:02.59]You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on ‘em
[01:05.13]With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own
[01:07.55]Since when did the south get pinned in a drought?
[01:09.82]Not never been clever since big pens been about
[01:12.29]Reachin whateva levels that’ll suspend any doubt
[01:14.64]That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth
[01:17.30]I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme
[01:19.86]Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind
[01:22.32]Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine
[01:25.25]Cause niggas been about them lines
[01:27.81]Since when? E'ry since a "Pocket Full of Stones"
[01:29.54]Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome
[01:31.89]Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul
[01:34.08]And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'
[01:36.59]The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks
[01:39.26]Rain down on the game and **** it up like white kicks
[01:41.63]I might switch, south-paw, knuckle to jaw
[01:43.69]If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all
[01:46.04]I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck
[01:48.82]So save that to pay back all your loans and debts
[01:51.06]A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shhhit
[01:53.72]We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch
[01:56.23]Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich
[01:58.58]Ye’ ain’t gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this
[02:01.01]Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months
[02:03.25]Hot though crock-pot flow
[02:05.02]So here dinner comes
[02:06.07]Walk them shell toes down underground railroads
[02:08.38]Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell’s close
[02:10.68]And these words ain't slurred, maybe how you listen’s blurred
[02:13.49]You ain’t feelin sickness served? muh****a kiss a curb
[02:15.73]I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme
[02:18.05]Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind
[02:20.46]Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine
[02:23.41]Cause niggas been about them lines
[02:25.46]Since when? E'ry since a "Pocket Full of Stones"
[02:27.66]Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome
[02:30.07]Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul
[02:32.33]And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'
[02:38.10]