Yeah, uh

East Point, smoke some dank

College Park in the house

Decatur

Uh, Old National got the skanks

Everybody, uh

You know what I'm sayin'?

Check it

Well, it's the M-I-crooked letter, ain't no one better

And when I'm on the microphone you best to wear your sweater

'Cause I'm cooler than a polar bear's toenails

Oh hell, there he go again, talkin' that shit

Bend, corner's like I was a curb, I struck a nerve

And now you 'bout to see this Southern playa serve

I heard it's not where you're from but where you pay rent

Then I heard it's not what you make, but how much you spend

You got me bent like elbows, amongst other things, but I'm not worried

'Cause when we stepped up in the party, like a mouse you scurried

So go get yo' fuckin' shine box, and yo sack of nickels

It tickles, to see you try to be like Mr. Pickles

Daddy Fat Sax, B-I-G B-O-I

Is that same motherfucker that took them knuckles to your eye

And I try, to warn you not to test, but you don't listen

Givin' a shout out to my Uncle Darnell locked up in prison

Now throw yo hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er

Now throw yo hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er

Now, my oral illustration be like clitoral stimulation

To the female gender, ain't nothin' better

Let me know when it's wet enough to enter

If not I'll wait, because the future of the world depends on

If or if not, the child we raise gon' have that **** syndrome

Or will it know to beat the odds, regardless of his skin tone

I really feel that if we tune it, it just might get picked on

Or will it give a fuck about what others say and get gone?

They alienate us 'cause we different, keep yo head to the sky

Like Sounds of Blackness when I practice what I preach and don't no lie

I be the baker and the maker of the piece of my pie

Now breaker-breaker, 10-4, can I get some reply?

Now everybody say

Now throw yo' hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er

Now throw yo hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er

Everyday I sit while my **** be in school

Thinkin' about the second album at the Dungeon shootin' pool

Like E-S to the P-N, 'cause we adjust to the beat in the zone (Zone)

Honey, I'm home, but I'm not married

Carried a lot of problems 'round bein' frustrated

And now I'm sittin' at the end of the month, I just made it

Like you made the B-team

And like your daddy's wife, you makin' the coffee

You heard the ATLiens, so back the hell up off me

Shh-shh, softly as if I played piano in the dark

Found a way to channel my anger not to embark

The world's a stage and everybody got's to play they part

God works in mysterious ways so when he starts

The job of speakin' through us, we be so sincere with this here

No drugs or alcohol, so I can get the signal clear as day

Put my Glock away I got a stronger weapon

That never runs out of ammunition so I'm ready for war okay

Now throw yo' hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er

Now throw yo' hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, Oh yea-er