| Ugh |
| Lately, I’ve been talking to my EGO! |
| That we gon be one of the greatest to ever make it from the dirty south |
| It’s going down, just look alive |
| Fuck what they heard or who they signed |
| You did more for the culture than them combined |
| It took a while to prove them wrong, 300 songs later |
| No debating they’ll pass the crown to ya |
| At the feet of a king that was chained to defeat |
| Till he rowed up the creek of the 'Sip with a chip on his shoulders |
| Last of a dying breed, who’s gonna lead if this rap shit is over? |
| Matter of fact if there is no subject matter or exposure |
| I can feel the end getting closer |
| Maybe I ain’t sober, the drank got me dranked out |
| The gas mixed with hash and oil got ya tanked out |
| Spent so much time in the vault, I was banked out |
| Don’t talk to me about hit songs with your stank mouth |
| I’m being serious, darkest nights to see the vision |
| Country boy wrecked the block with no collision |
| Old school MC with no suspensions |
| Sometimes it was me and God and my religion |
| Itching to make some scratch and jump in the 'Lac |
| With the twanks and the flat, the diamond in the back |
| Bumping UGK, my rims on scrape, my trunk on quake |
| I can’t hear hate, like «what you say?» |
| Fuck yall niggas, I’m ten toes down and still moving |
| I’ve never seen so many with rings yet still losing |
| Never seen so many faces on memes that boo-hooing |
| Why you worry about me and mine? What you doing? |
| That gold ain’t fooling never-ever-ever |
| I buried mine, I’m running out of shovels |
| Angel wings and those that tucker their feathers |
| Until I’m tired of hearing «go to heaven» |
| Krizzle (go to Heaven) |