my face with thongs, chewin' lollipops I'll hit that butt on the low, just like Monica Play three tunes and let her blow on my harmonica I'm out here
who'll miss ya I love the dirty South that's why I gotta dirty mouth that'll burn you out Tell your bitch I got a dick that'll turn her out Especially when I
But I'm a grown man, I hold my own man Not from ATL but I'm killin' Mikes like Killer Mike Half the time I don't write, I just grab an ounce Tell play
, Well, look at old Jim, he's pecking on his back! Peckin' to me is a lot of fun, Well, you peck one, and I'll peck one, well, we'll all peck one!
the prize all mine Then I'll write my name in letters across the sky I'm gonna shine and if my present luminescent state is second rate I'll turn it
So run Why don't you run, so why don't you run? So why don't you run back to school? So why don't you run, so why don't you run? All you are (Now I
Baby oh baby tell the man at the ticket stand that you've changed your mind Let me run on out and tell the cab to keep his meter flyin' Cause if you say
no. 1 i'll be the next hot... gossip... im strutin' like hush! [chorus x4] hey eh! party pumpin' i
my squad and I'm the nicest one in my group But I got bananas for you niggaz and I ain't talking 'bout fruit I'll pay your cab back with the black mack
too many But still I'm impressed wit' cho' wild out Henney It's a party and I got's to run all through But maybe later on we can chat over booze See I
and you'll be gone And I hold on to the finer things I need to keep me strong But one sweet day, I'll put them all away I'll hope you know that no one
, hit 75 spots And I'm back down, Atlanta, copped 75 drops So on first sip, I made about a grand You ask me what I need, I tell 'em bring the whole van
? Heck no, heck no Taxi, Greyhound, yeller cab, somebody I'll show him a redneck He'll have a red neck When I get my hands around his throat I'm sick
you like love handles and big old buns I've pounds of passion and tons of fun I look like Flabio in my king-cab truck To look like Brooks and Dunn I
I go singing a different tune So I'm in the cab I'm running late I have no hope getting in these city gates I think of things I should have done Countless things I
zero, zero Let's not go home, we'll catch the late train I've got enough money to pay all the way When the postman calls, he'll deliver the letter I'
like tear gas And I swear black, try to battle me, you won't last I'll turn your ass into the artist formerly known as, you gay ass fag I'll blow you