Uh-huh, now what we gonna do
Take it from the Eastside to the country

Ya feel me? Ya feel me?
Ya feel me? Tchka-tchka-tchka
Check the chorus...



Chorus 2x: Timbaland



Jada talk so good, but they brain is not ready

They don't know know
Bubba talk so good, but they brain is not ready
They don't know know know





Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh, yeah
Yo, uh, yeah, yo...
Aiyyo, this I'll make ya head hurt

When the hawk take the day off
I make the lead work, I'll put you in the red dirt
Ice make 'em look like stars, they comin' through

On the bikes, but they look like cars, it's somethin' new
and Jada talk soo good, but 'cha brain is
Nowhere next to ready for this stainless

It's no helpin' you when them thangs melt in you
and way down in Athens, Jada's a bell ringer
I'ma bring the hood to the farm

Bless 'em with some purple hay
Remove the wood from the barn
Introduce them to the yak and cranberry

and make sure Bubba Spark good, then I'm gone
Even if we run the war, I'ma still run the raw
You can come and see me, I got 'em for twenty-four

Double R and Beat Club, who hard as us?
R3: In The "R" We Trust, c'mon








Uh, uh...

Boy, silly if you saw them crackers ridin' with them pigs




and thought I might would hit this robe for less than twenty-five a gig
Doin' sixty-five, I sled off acid and %#@!ty bourbon

Took a minute to adjust, but right now this big %#@! is workin'
I'm white just by chance, but I'm country by God's graces
Nowadays I find myself doin' laundry in odd places

But still, I keep it Bubba even into Mr. Kiss and them
Brought 'em down to Athens, let 'em cut with my sister's friend
Now we gettin' blist again, back on the block in Yonkers

and Tim done laced a track, man this %#@! is hot as bonkers
Kiss, not to flaunt ya, but just tell 'em Bed has come here
I'm doin' for my family, but y'all are really done here

But Bubba is the truth and perhaps this is discussion
Of wither I'm that deal or a product of Tim's percussion
Y'all know to him is bustin', so just dap me up and frown on

Me and Kiss is necessary, that much you can count on, yeah








How did him and Bubba rise from this dirt and this cow feces?
To show you folks the hope for this changin' shall be me

Notice how he see, the picture for it's painting
and poured you up of this mixture before it was tainted
See I was rydin' ruff only when me and D became aquatinted

and I pledge to maintain it, be damned if I'ma change it
This %#@! is !@#*, ain't it? $#&@ 'em, Kiss bring it home
I ryde or die with Beat Club, won't bend for the sake of this song




The streets is still mine, I stay with the still nine
and it's still long and if I'm stronger than corn like I pinkeyed
^!$$%z pretend to be weeded, that's what the industry needed
Kiss flippin' his flow, enemies heated

But we gon' let the gats pop
From the old rifles on the dirt road to the handguns on the blacktop
Don't get the plot wrong, this ain't a black or white politic thing
@@#!sucker, it's a hot song