Since When

We flava the music, chop this, screw that

Take you through church in a verse till you view fact

Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility

Facin' critics' cold fronts, blockin' our humidity

We own rap

Fo sho as cognac'll twist yo' dome back

Our tracks? See, they be nappy

But you can't comb that

Call it el natural sound of soul

You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown

From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known

My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes

You hear Natti, hot as caddies

With no steerin' column on 'em

With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own

And since when did the South

Get pinned in a drought?

Not never been clever since BIC pens been about

Reachin' whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt

That we as bad as you kids when this mic's to our mouth

I hear 'em talkin' 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme

Some of y'all must be out of your goddamn mind

Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine

'Cause **** been about them lines

Since when?

Ever since a pocket full of stones

Ridin' dirty in a Chevy, sittin' heavy on chrome

Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul

And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'

The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind

Like night sticks

Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks

I might switch, south paw

Knuckle to jaw

If another broke **** spit about spendin' it all

I spit the gems that you splurge to put around your neck

So save that to pay back all your loans and debts

A Maybach and a plaque? Is that all you get? Shit

We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch

Standin' on southern dirt that helped America get rich

You ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this

Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months

Hot though

Crock-pot flow

So here dinner comes

Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads

**** fresh outta jail clothes, spittin' like Hell's close

And these words ain't slurred

Maybe how you listen's blurred

You ain't feelin' sickness served?

Muhfucka, kiss a curb

I hear 'em talkin' 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme

Some of y'all must be out of your goddamn mind

Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine

'Cause **** been about them lines

Since when?

Ever since a pocket full of stones

Ridin' dirty in a Chevy, sittin' heavy on chrome

Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul

And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'

Since when?