[8ball:]
Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts
And grind, keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine
My player ways keep me with plenty dimes
See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth
When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z
All night on the block til the sun rise
My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5
Four five in the mornin it don't stop
Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)
Blue lights snap me back to reality
I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me
Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass
Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash
I guess that's better than gettin locked up
Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!

[Chorus:]
Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from
Down in the bottoms where they broke some
Whips cross a nigga back, way back
And now they wonder why we act, how we act
Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow
Afros