(Spoken) Tim Daddy was a gangster rapper 

From the mean streets of Atlanta Georgia 

Sittin' on his couch one day, watchin' BET Network 

When suddenly his TV set went on the blink 

And he ended up watching Bill Dance Championship Fishing 

His life changed 

And this is that young man's story... 

 

 

He left the inner city and moved to the hill 

Traded in his crack pipe on a moonshine still 

His gang bandanna sure looked bad 

But it's the only color that the bait store had 

No more Tupac Shaqure or Biggie Small 

Now it's cow manure on his overalls 

Surrounded by fiddles and a lot of George Jones 



(Goodbye Puffy Combs!)

 

  Hillbilly homeboy

  Your posse wants to know what's up 

  You done dissed the sistas in the West Coast crew 

  For some bubbas with a spit cup 

  You got a sad little crib in the hillbilly hood  

  There ain't no booty calls back in the woods 

  Hillbilly homeboy

  When ya gonna come back home 

 

He's got curb-feelers on his 4-wheel drive 

His comb liquor tastes like Colt 45 

We hear you started hanging with some hillbilly hos 

Throwin' engine block parties for a bunch of Jethros 

It's hard to pump up the jam to Allison Krauss 

When there ain't no electricity in da house 

You can't bust a move to some crooked sounds 



(Goodbye Bobby Brown!)

 

  Hillbilly homeboy  

  Your posse wonderin' where you at 

  "We hear you're dressin' like Ed from Hooterville"   

  And homey, what up with that 

  Your grandmother misses you and so do we 

  We're thinkin', "Damn you must be trippin', G" 

  Hillbilly homeboy

  When ya gonna come back home 



(Spoken) It ain't easy being a fish out of water is it, G? 

We'll help you load up the old low-rider and head on back to the crib..



Peace out!