K.a.n.

damn real i'm a country ass nigga, shawn show no shame bare-foot on your block selling rock cocaine georgia boy from the south spit when i talk, smack when i eat, from the field pimp when i walk whoa, lil daddy he ain't even not ready field mob come ridin a stretch box chevy, follow me now, i'm a take you where the good dope at call it butter where the hood folks at, in the gutter stay low, keep movin nah you can't stop them boys infrared dot your du-rag and tanktop that guerilla coke grown suburban word with more grams than a old folks home now this the way i slang dick every which a way, best get your bitch and pray she don't wanna get with J but if i do mack your bitch, you just shit outta luck like leprechaun laxative chorus i get sick if i ain't home in the south u can hear it in my voice watch i get on the track and ride like a rolls royce and lean in it, spit sixteen, supreme splendid tipsy from tangueray with tangerines in it