[Verse 1: 8Ball]
Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time
So, I'mma get out on these cuts and grind
Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine
My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes
See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)
When a n***a get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)
All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)
My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five
Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop
Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top
(Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)
I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me
Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass
Searched a n***a and took about a three in cash
I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up
Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!

[Chorus: MJG & 8Ball]
Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from
Down in the bottoms, where they broke some
Whips cross a n***a back, way back
And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow
Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
People barbecuein' in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card!
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
[Verse 2: MJG]
I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight
My n***as wanna stay the whole night
Dice game in the kitchen, n***a, T. Lee
N***a drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees
Ham sammich in the driveway, drop-top
Naked women in the den, prayin' hopscotch
Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone
So, hit me and I'mma keep my phone on
I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth
Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip
Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times
If I diss her, it'll take a n***a ten lines
MJG standing tall, and I won't fold
You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold—
Onto any woman like a human handcuff
You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!

[Chorus: MJG & 8Ball]
Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from
Down in the bottoms, where they broke some
Whips cross a n***a back, way back
And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow
Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
People barbecuein' in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card!
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
[Verse 3: Big Boi]
How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows
Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose
Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy
Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)
Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac & Sprite
Y'all just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked-thighed
Below the Mason-Dixon line, real n***as know, what I'm talkin' about
From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah
The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after
No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious
The Space Age is pimpin' this, players comin' major
They shot the sucker, sprayed you, cut your wife and played her
The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker
Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you
And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you
You know, I'm talkin 'bout?
OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!

[Chorus: MJG & 8Ball]
Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from
Down in the bottoms, where they broke some
Whips cross a n***a back, way back
And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow
Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes
People barbecuin' in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card!
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up
[Verse 4: André 3000]
You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh)
It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get
The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)
Apart, distant
Nobody, has the upper hand but my body's resistant
So now, throw your phalanges in the ground (Aight)
I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around
I found negative n***as, they only keep you down
Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)
I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)
I'm post to blast, space invaders up somebody's dad
Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc
If knowledge be the key, then buddy roasted on the porch (Ooh)
And wait for ya mama, to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass
They need to find an open window fast
Word to the motherfucker
Word to the motherfucker
Word to the motherfucker

[Chorus: MJG & 8Ball]
Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from
Down in the bottoms, where they broke some
Whips cross a n***a back, way back
And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow
Afros and loud ass Italian clothes
People barbecuein' in the front yard
Money from the first of the month card!
If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up
If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up
If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up