Look this is the World's debut of these damn fools Stak and Blac, tic for tac, breakin' all racial rules And ain't too much, wrong with that Cuz if it is, gone speak the truth Please don't tell 'em wrong, cuz if you do, then you know you through Bitches I'ma grown ass man Makin' grown man moves Don't get it wrong, damn fools Stak HARD on ya too We ain't gone play with this shit Same label and shit Like brothers, different mothers, but we twins in this shit Like piano keys (white-black) Two junkies, we'll be right back And if you hit me, Stak gone feel it, dawg and Blac won't like that Shit we might just fight cats Beat you to the fact, Jack Provokin' you for callin' the authorities (take that!) Me, I ain't facin' that Blood on the baseball bat Hide all the evidence Please, 'fo they come Stak G'wan wit'cha bad self Put that South all in they mouth Tell them through the East of Tennessee before we work it out
Chorus (Haystak + Gangsta Blac):
(Haystak)
WHAT! Put the South in they mouth, put the South in they mouth WHAT! Put the South in they mouth, put the South in they mouth WHAT! Put the South in they mouth, put the South in they mouth WHAT! SOUTH
(Gangsta Blac)
Yeah Parkway!
Second Verse (Haystak):
Taylor Made, see they be too deep in the place to be Chiefin' trees, drinkin' crown Actin' bad, talkin' loud Push and shove through the crowd Talkin' shit, so what's up now? They don't want it no..they don't want it I know alot of y'all wonder why Gangsta fuck with this white boy? They don't know by now, brotha let me break it down for ya TOUGH DUDE! If you don't love me, mane fuck you Comin' like a train Boy, it's not a game What's my name name name? Big Stak Mac Where I'm from from from? The terrible T What I claim claim claim? C.W.B. So all that bullshit you talkin' don't mean nothin' to me G.B. and me fall up in the new daisies Security trippin', say my crew is actin' too crazy Some call me the coldest cracker and I just may be I'm like Jigga down here, call me big Hay-Z
Chorus
Third Verse (Gangsta Blac+Haystak):
(Gangsta Blac)
So if you wanna know, every God damned thang about us country folks Collard green dreams, eat it up, cuz we got some more Put some dirty South, real deep until you leakin' grease Boy poppin' it, bustin' loose, tryin' to get to me Barbeques, hoes, rims, paint, braids, fades, boy! Hay in the barn everyday in the South boy! Counter that, runnin'? I'll be damned if I'ma run trick Down fifty-one, from the law, til' I'm free bitch!
(Haystak)
Corn on the cob, ribs on the grill, potato salad Straps in the park, at a cookout I'll let a hater have it Constantly seen on the scene, throughout my neighborhood Kept it real with my people like I always said I would Dirty white boy caught up in the mix Tryin' to separate the real from the counterfeit tricks Counterfeit cliques go platinum, on the real cats starve But that's how the industry is, how the music people are! A celebrity I'll never be I'm just a representative of my community In Tennessee we don't fuck around, buckle down Hold down this Southern town From H-town to Funkytown, World renowned We puttin' the....
ChorusTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
