[Intro: Eightball]
He he he, yeeah
[Verse 1: Eightball]
What kind of nigga always run his mouth like a hoe
Like his jaw got a battery, this nigga always know
Who got robbed, got shot, who got put on lock
Nobody invited you and still you got up in the spot
Me, I`m not a witness, keep my distance, mind my business
You, somebody talk, you in they mouth like a dentist
We keep it gangsta, mommas love it cause they know it`s real
Like UGK, we keeps it real mobbin` through the field
Big Ball, Fatboy, unload heat when my brain spill
You for it, images without no coke connect pills
We keep it crunk and poppin` real niggaz know the deal
We Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill
You try to stop it, get yo` shit broke up in twenty pieces
We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit secret features
Game preachers move yo` pimpin` for you mamasitas
We players on the field, y`all niggaz in them bleachers
[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 2X)
You talkin` down behind my back (uh) you done shot off nigga
Fifty, four or twenty sack, you done shot off nigga
If you fly and got a gun (uh) when the drama come, you run (uh)
You know what you just done, you done shot off nigga
[Verse 2: MJG]
Man, come on now, you done shot off just like Mike Davis lost a knockoff
Or his tight-ass shirt when the button pop off
You standin` it`s snowin` you got yo` shoes and socks on
Who holds the key? No fucking bout it, I broke the lock off
I grew the top off, took the comma, period, dot off
And ran on wit it and broke you a whole lot off
I`m gettin` hot and startin` to boil, don`t turn the pot off
You just affected wit it, pimpin` yo, get yo` rocks off
Release some pressure, stop all that cryin` and wipe ya snot off
Excuses you be usin` for losin` it`s cheap as hot sauce
Earn yo` position, stop hatin` beacuse you not boss
M-J-G, pimp tight, I`m movin` yo` spot off
And I don`t reach, stoppin` yo` plans, fucking yo` plot off
I go hard and I don`t sheave and I`m not off
And livin` on the edge rebellin` I`m never dropped off
Like Aaron Hall, Don`t Be Afraid bitch, call the cops off
[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 2X)
[Verse 3: Ludacris]
Now you can either check yo` ego at the do` (door) or let the drama unfold
And check my Rap Sheet, BITCH, I`m almost ten million sold
I`m only rappin` cause I want to, I got enough plaques
Needless to say, my favorite rappers told me to get on this track
And so I DID it, quickly wrote my sixteen down and SPIT it
By the end of the verse you`ll say, once again, Ludacris SHIT it
Then I`ll wipe this wit yo` face and put yo` pride in the trash
My whole career is like my video, I`m showin` my ass
I keeps it, gangsta, gangsta! shooters and shanksters
Until you shot off motherfuckers, I`m a thank ya, thank ya!
Runnin` yo` mouth behind my back until you run out of time
But at least yo` talkin` let`s me know some millions stay on yo` mind
It ain`t nothin` wrong wit that
Tell em grabbin` the thang and then I put it to yo` brain
And change everything you ever hope fo` (for) wit the .44
You`ll be fallin` back
And Yacht - is what I`m drinkin` steady thinkin` bout these pinks chasin`
I`m bout to bring home the bacon
[Chorus: Eightball] - (Repeat 4X)
