Uh-huh, now what we gonna do Take it from the East side. to the country
Ya feel me? Ya feel me?
Ya feel me? Tchka-tchka-tchka
Check the chorus…
Jada talk so good, but they brain is not ready
They don’t know know
Bubba talk so good, but they brain is not ready
They don’t know know know
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh, yeah
Yo, uh, yeah, yo…
Ay yo, this I’ll make ya head hurt
When the hawk take the day off
I make the lead work, I’ll put you in the red dirt
Ice make 'em look like stars, they comin through
On the bikes, but they look like cars, it’s somethin new
And Jada talk sooo good, but 'cha brain is Nowhere next to ready for this stainless
It’s no helpin ya when them thangs melt in ya And way down in Athens, 'Kiss is a bell ringer
I’ma bring the hood to the farm
Bless 'em with some purple haze
Remove the wood from the bong
Introduce them to the yak and cranberry
And make sure Bubba spark good, then I’m gone
Even if we run to war, I’mma still run the raw
You can come and see me, I got 'em for twenty-four
Double R and Beat Club, who hard as us?
«R3: In the 'R' We Trust,» c’mon
Uh, uh…
Boy you silly if you saw them crackers ridin' with them pigs
And thought I might would hit this robe for less than twenty-five a gig
Doin' sixty-five, I slid off acid and shitty bourbon
Took a minute to adjust, but right now this big 'cid is workin
I’m white just by chance, but I’m country by God’s graces
Nowadays I find myself doin laundry in odd places
But still, I keep it Bubba even in the midst of 'Kiss and them
Brought 'em down to Athens, let 'em cuddle with my sister’s friend
Now we gettin' blitzed again, back on the block in Yonkers
And Tim done laced a track, man this shit is hot as bonkers
'Kiss, not to flaunt ya, but just tell them Betty’s come here
I’m doin for my family what y’all already done here
But Bubba is the truth and perhaps this ends discussion
Of whether I’m that deal or a product of Timb’s percussion
Y’all know to him it’s bustin, so just dap me up and frown on Me and 'Kiss is necessary, that much you can count on, yeah
How did him and Bubba rise from this dirt and this cow feces?
To show you folks the hope for this changin' shall be me Notice how he see, the picture 'fore it’s painted
And poured you up a cup of this mixture before it’s tainted
See I was rydin' ruff homie before me and D became acquainted
And I pledge to maintain it, be damned if I’mma change it This shit is heinous, ain’t it? Fuck 'em, Kiss bring it home
I ryde or die with Beat Club, won’t bend for the sake of this song
The streets is still mine, I stay with the steel nine
And it’s still on nigga I’m stonger than corn liquor
Pink-eyed, niggas pretend to be weeded
That’s what the industry needed
Kiss flippin' his flow, enemies heated
But we gon' let the gats pop
From the old rifles on the dirt road
To the handguns on the blacktop
Don’t get the plot wrong
This ain’t a black or white politic thing, cocksucker
This a hot song