Once again up in that south from my motherfucking mouth

and creeping up on y'all niggas like a motherfucking mouse

Stepping on these tracks like fags and drag queens

And shitting on you busters like I ate some bake beans



Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hits

We never straight jam with no busters our no tricks

Getting in trouble from the sounds of my trunk

and keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk



Chorus: What, What (in background)

Now drop dem bozs' on 'em



Nigga bozs' bout to turn out the show

Crankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoe

Flipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking round

It's time lay it down putting it all up on the line

Ain't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoes

All these niggas what they made us from dem' boz and craters

While lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flop

Underground where we dwell, the hell with hip hop

Southside just reckless, from GA to Texas

And next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexus

But it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I see

The mo' hating niggas try me

Big baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade me

Better sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me

>From a place called T-town be down in the south

Where dem' players throw dem' boz and gold teeth in they mouth

And dump dump if ya' jump jump

The club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pump

through yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like Beaker

All the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter

>From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to Alabama

I be damn a club ain't crunk in this manner

I canc