(Pimp C)
 I gotta come down, I got a bangin trunk
 So when I come through you feel the slab just bump
 Them niggas sipin syrup and them bitches on that gin
 Man hit that sweet one time for Smoke-D locked down in that pen
 I'm blowin out the window, you know I'm rollin glass
 I'm bumpin that Screw, that t-a-t, that boy actin a ass
 Cause down in Texas nigga, we got our own stores
 We got the baddest bitches and we roll the freshest cars
 I flip to New Orleans by you clask I'm on the scene
 Got dress improvement steam I step out that bitch so clean
 I poured out some liquor on the street for that fool Todd
 He was a trill ass nigga never came at me prod
 Man I was talkin to Playa G just the other night
 He told me about this nigga that was talkin about me shife
 Fool nigga this UGK Bun and C we run the streets
 And tell your bitch ass brother he can't fuck with my beats
 So if you wanna be bangin nigga the good shit don't come cheap
 I'm talkin 7000 over 3 knock off a G
 Cause fool this ain't no game nigga all about my change
 I'm comin baby Fleetwood swangin on them thangs

 (Chorus 4x)
 I gotta come down
 I gotta stay real
 I gotta break them boys off bumper and grill

 (Bun B)
 Now tell me what it's all about in the south
 Big gold grill in you mouth
 Much leather inside yo car, on yo back, in yo house
 Sit in a nigga's ride the seats feel like a couch
 Big keys in my pouch
 Bitch if it hurt say ouch
 Now if I look like a south don't try to cap
 You know a nigga like me be ridin dirty with big dope up in his lap
 Oh, but when I'm shinin bitch I'm blazin
 Hoes shrivlin up like raisins talkin bout it so amazin
 How big Bun be rollin through Texas with sexy hoes keepin they wig done
 Bustas bite the big one
 From dis to dip this swisher houses
 Let's flip from that maker maker to that after hours on Scott
 They always drinkin trip mixed with crush 75 or 4
 Make a nigga wanna fuss, but I can't
 Cause I need the rush of codeine so I can lean
 I prop a pill
 Cause I'm trill to the bone
 Crushin with that crome

 Chorus

 (N.O. Joe)
 What's up bruh this N.O. Joe representin gumbo
 Funk in you trunk that got yo ears wide open like you dumb ho
 I'm livin larger than most a coast to coast slipper
 That ice-bowl sipper that's never known to be a set tripper
 Too many diamonds for you to try to look at directly
 Haters don't check me they respect me
 A pistol packin, no shank, shiny grill, full tank
 Checkin out these bustas thinkin they real when they ain't
 Y'all call me mister foreign
 I'm comin down at navy porscha
 Either way I'ma be a highway scorcher, blunt torcher
 I'm catchin out doin 120 on the tallway the whole way
 Turnin the corners that I once hung out
 I got the boppers strung out
 Walkin around with they tounge out
 Naw, I stay behind the wheel grinnin
 Burnin 500 dollar rubber, 5000 dollar rim spinnin

 Chorus 7x