Don't worry about this dirty south til it's mud floods ya front stoop

Aces and acres of haters growing out the same root

That hit you quicker than poverty in two major arteries

Havin you movin and softshoe-in like who made you property





Black face and sambos, tied for last place

Let facts state, we like Wildcats in a rat race

At that rate, the state stay ahead of tomorrow

Standing out like mount Kilimanjaro





So through this Bluegrass follow sorrow

Blacker then the ghetto you fear

You disappear like the future of the ghetto you near

Where index fingers bring the heavy metal you hear

Block stars loading guns as fiends battle for crumbs





Come travel through slums, try politickin with pushas

Made block decisions, while mothafuckas overlooked us

Under the radar like helicopters on the sly

Crept in with hoods on, KKKY





KKKY, more then what you thank it is

Ain't just tobacco, some bourbon and where horse racin live

This is for my Mark Makers, I keep my flask tipped

Live where the grass crip, steppin in my blood





Don't try to play Mike Vick and stick a dog in this fight

Ya art of loud bark don't veto your mosquitoish bite

The mc's too dark, the producer to white

Fam the lyrics too loose, the beats is to tight





We parry blows, we bury foes through stereos

Keep an aerial view over scenarios

Some niggaz, that move spirts like a liquor store

AA, after 12 steps you back to get some more





Makers of Woodford Reserve that curve ya nerves

We country, coming with fists while you armed with words

Field nigga brand hands that'll slap you to sleep

From the land of hard liquor and tobacco that's cheap





We rose like Lazarus, a miraculous feat

Put soul in it gave what's left back to the streets





But we all artist regardless of the art is in speech

Close Kyn, make notes bent tryna find a release from this