Intro]
Gun c***ing, shots fired.
[King Koopa]
The sound of revenge, haha.
Woo, tell em what it is mayne (tell em what it is).
[Pastor Troy]
Welcome to the New World Order.
Atlanta, Georgia.
[King Koopa]
Houston, Texas, he already know.
[Pastor Troy]
The south is takin over.
[Chorus x2 - King Koopa]
Just look over your shoulder (shoulder)
Let me see who just showed up (showed up)
It's the southern takeover (its over)
You betta tell em I got drinks that stand on top try and stop (pop pop pop)
[Killer Mike]
It's the mister fo fifth told em
Cookin c**e with baking soda
Dub roller, pro smoker
Wood gripper, pistol whipper.
Muck a n**** if he figure
F**kin with my figures.
Makes him richer, he should know.
Instead, it'll make him better than a slimy f**kin with my money.
Get yo money stacked right outta sunday school
On a bright and sunny sunday.
This ain't funny.
I ain't jokin bout my c**e and package come up shorter.
Might kidnap yo wife and daughter.
Bury them down deep in Georgia.
No D.A.s a f**kin lawyer prosecutin witnesses.
We excutin, start the shootin, start the lukin,
Start the violence, start a riot.
Get this m*********** crunker, crunk as you can get it.
Pass that ho, I'm a hit it.
Outta line, we gon spit it,
spit it vivid, cause i live it.
You don't walk it, you just talk it.
Pistol totin, and a loadin.
That's how smokin got this dope
And i aint hopin, steady slangin
Right on yo trappa block.
Try your track, set up shop.
Try and stop (pop pop pop).
[Chorus]
[King Koopa]
Hey hey, this ain't about an image.
This ain't about a gimmick.
P**sys stand to the side.
Now the game got a menace.
I d*** seen a city that I think is not the realest.
We b**min on his a**.
He ain't finishin his sentence.
I only got a minute.
I feelin about a digit.
You lookin at a n**** like I ain't about to get it.
I'm lookin at the money like I ain't about to finish.
You need to mind your business.
If you ain't about your business.
I'm a H-town soldier.
I'm a come with the trunk up yeah I'm a gon remind ya.
If you ain't gettin it you shoulda told ya father.
n**** chamillionaire never show no problems.
You don't want no problem (problem).
Get em g'ed shoulda let the fo fo remind em.
Ya you tip on the ride em.
I be ridin fo fos on the door beside em.
6' 6" tall lookin like he a center.
10 tatoos lookin like he a killa.
Skinny a** n***** don't fight with a n****.
Pull out a billfold, put a price on a n****.
I have this camp fo put a knife in a n****.
From the car to his pocket then right in your liver.
Was a big boy that put a slice in the middle.
Ya head fast think you hold a mike with the killa.
Don't mess with the south homie, thats a dream,
Hallucinate or imagining so.
Double XL with the gats I mean,
Keep somethin ready to blow in the magazine.
And you know that southern cash is mean.
Franklins frown for me when I stash my cream.
Pull up in candy paint that match my green.
Killer, Pastor, and Koopa are the master machine.
[Chorus]
[Pastor Troy]
Y'all know me, it's PT.
Well I hunt and all of that,
Black on black, with black tip.
I can't help but represent.
I'm not content, I want more.
Who the f**k you take me for?
Studio rappers not the fortay.
I drop my top and bust my AK.
No mo play, n**** NGA.
Yeah, that's a classic.
Ridin in the classic.
Tote a mill, and I blast em.
Send em to the casket.
Send em to the morgue.
Slap me a n**** cause i'm motherf**kin bored.
Chamillionaire, I camoflouge in my surrounding.
Get my desert E's and get to motherf**kin poundin.
Up and down the streets,
Throwin heat, out the driver's seat,
Ridin to the beat,
Tell them n**** just lay weak.
[Chorus x2]
Gun c***ing, shots fired.
[King Koopa]
The sound of revenge, haha.
Woo, tell em what it is mayne (tell em what it is).
[Pastor Troy]
Welcome to the New World Order.
Atlanta, Georgia.
[King Koopa]
Houston, Texas, he already know.
[Pastor Troy]
The south is takin over.
[Chorus x2 - King Koopa]
Just look over your shoulder (shoulder)
Let me see who just showed up (showed up)
It's the southern takeover (its over)
You betta tell em I got drinks that stand on top try and stop (pop pop pop)
[Killer Mike]
It's the mister fo fifth told em
Cookin c**e with baking soda
Dub roller, pro smoker
Wood gripper, pistol whipper.
Muck a n**** if he figure
F**kin with my figures.
Makes him richer, he should know.
Instead, it'll make him better than a slimy f**kin with my money.
Get yo money stacked right outta sunday school
On a bright and sunny sunday.
This ain't funny.
I ain't jokin bout my c**e and package come up shorter.
Might kidnap yo wife and daughter.
Bury them down deep in Georgia.
No D.A.s a f**kin lawyer prosecutin witnesses.
We excutin, start the shootin, start the lukin,
Start the violence, start a riot.
Get this m*********** crunker, crunk as you can get it.
Pass that ho, I'm a hit it.
Outta line, we gon spit it,
spit it vivid, cause i live it.
You don't walk it, you just talk it.
Pistol totin, and a loadin.
That's how smokin got this dope
And i aint hopin, steady slangin
Right on yo trappa block.
Try your track, set up shop.
Try and stop (pop pop pop).
[Chorus]
[King Koopa]
Hey hey, this ain't about an image.
This ain't about a gimmick.
P**sys stand to the side.
Now the game got a menace.
I d*** seen a city that I think is not the realest.
We b**min on his a**.
He ain't finishin his sentence.
I only got a minute.
I feelin about a digit.
You lookin at a n**** like I ain't about to get it.
I'm lookin at the money like I ain't about to finish.
You need to mind your business.
If you ain't about your business.
I'm a H-town soldier.
I'm a come with the trunk up yeah I'm a gon remind ya.
If you ain't gettin it you shoulda told ya father.
n**** chamillionaire never show no problems.
You don't want no problem (problem).
Get em g'ed shoulda let the fo fo remind em.
Ya you tip on the ride em.
I be ridin fo fos on the door beside em.
6' 6" tall lookin like he a center.
10 tatoos lookin like he a killa.
Skinny a** n***** don't fight with a n****.
Pull out a billfold, put a price on a n****.
I have this camp fo put a knife in a n****.
From the car to his pocket then right in your liver.
Was a big boy that put a slice in the middle.
Ya head fast think you hold a mike with the killa.
Don't mess with the south homie, thats a dream,
Hallucinate or imagining so.
Double XL with the gats I mean,
Keep somethin ready to blow in the magazine.
And you know that southern cash is mean.
Franklins frown for me when I stash my cream.
Pull up in candy paint that match my green.
Killer, Pastor, and Koopa are the master machine.
[Chorus]
[Pastor Troy]
Y'all know me, it's PT.
Well I hunt and all of that,
Black on black, with black tip.
I can't help but represent.
I'm not content, I want more.
Who the f**k you take me for?
Studio rappers not the fortay.
I drop my top and bust my AK.
No mo play, n**** NGA.
Yeah, that's a classic.
Ridin in the classic.
Tote a mill, and I blast em.
Send em to the casket.
Send em to the morgue.
Slap me a n**** cause i'm motherf**kin bored.
Chamillionaire, I camoflouge in my surrounding.
Get my desert E's and get to motherf**kin poundin.
Up and down the streets,
Throwin heat, out the driver's seat,
Ridin to the beat,
Tell them n**** just lay weak.
[Chorus x2]