[DJ Paul]

Now what you bitches wanna do

What you bitches wanna do, talk some shit

Get your ass beat black and fucking blue

By the new dangerous crew da fucking HeadBussaz

They turned us down for weed in they hood

Cause they ain't trust us, them niggas nothing but bustaz

They knew we had them skull bussaz, in our back pockets

Ready to rob and bust them, you hear me

I gotta dust them, off like some old books

Cause they fucked around with some old crooks

I'm talking bout King, I'm talking bout Fiend

I'm talking bout that nigga Juicy on the fucking scene

We got these auto's with them quieter's twisted at the tip

For no sounds, nothing but silence when these bitches rip

And rip a bitch head clean from they gold chain

Cause these boys had them gassed up like propane

I bring the pain like ten Taliban's on a {plane}

And we ain't quitting until your muthafuckin heart lose, nigga



[Chorus]

If you ain't from Memphis Tenn., it's gone be sum shit

They some wild muthafuckas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from New Orleans, it's gone be sum shit

They some crazy muthafuckas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Chi Town, it's gone be sum shit

They some gang banging niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from ATL, it's gone be sum shit

They some scrappin' muthafuckas, who you fucking wit



[Juicy J]

What you know bout the muthafuckin North, North

In the hood niggas drinking, smoking Newports

All them old school players bumping Too $hort

If they got that fire weed, they put in two torts

And them killing drug dealers, mane they stay in court

For that slanging or that killing or some child support

If my nigga go to jail, we gone hold a fort

Riding around bumping system with the cd distort

You can call me mister d-o-p-e with the glock then I p-o-p

Don't have my change, it's a d-e-a-d

Written on your forehead, don't fuck me

We keep artillery, you might can't see

Hiding in the bushes or a scope in the tree

So don't be playing with that nigga Juicy

They might find your body somewhere overseas



[Chorus]

If you ain't from Houston, Texas, it's gone to be sum shit

They some syrup shipping niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Mississippi, it's gone be sum shit

They some rope hanging niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Alabama, it's gone be sum shit

They some head busting niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Cashville, it's gone be sum shit

They some robbing muthafuckas, who you fucking wit



[Fiend]

Hands down, this for them scams

And that are saying by the pound

Tilt the scale, we just playing

Laying they ass in the ground

Gram baggers, coke handlers and lb movers

Yeah man, pack your shit

Cause I can see right through ya

To these bustaz, drug smugglers

That's under the world

All for the love of the girl

Fuck up my nadir

We swirl, quick dust

Making off with the furl

You step on it three times

And do your thang on the world

Uh huh only talking what I used to

Y'all do what you do

Highly grow one seven

And we messing with that voodoo

Got colors yellow down to the doo doo

You wouldn't short, we could moved you

Stick you like some glue too

Serve your ass like the lunch line

Point blank you want something of mine

On the block nothing to find, slide to the alley

Don't need the work badly

But fill prescriptions gladly, you heard me



[Chorus]

If you ain't from Arkansas, it's gone be sum shit

They some kidnapping niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Dallas, Texas, it's gone be sum shit

They some Mexican niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from Miami, it's gone be sum shit

They some dope pushing niggas, who you fucking wit

If you ain't from St. Louis, it's gone be sum shit

They some pimp juice drankers, who you fucking wit