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