| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| M-I crooked my nigga
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| Do it for the south, ya’ll know
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| Born and raised where the rebel flag hang from the slaves
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| Grew up where ya’ll niggas won’t go
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| Rep that, rep that shit like I own it
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| I did it big for my fam and my homies
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| I got the biggest house on my block, foreign with the drop
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| For the times I was out here homeless, God flow
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| Time and time again I tried to tell these niggas
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| Yo what I say to these niggas?
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| Reebok, on tap dance, do whatever for a sack
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| Give a lap dance bitch ass nigga
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| Fee-fi-fo coked up
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| 25 lighters on my dresser, ain’t shit changed
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| Rollin' in the ham sandwich on propellers lookin' like a strech
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| I’m so clean you think I might be selling cocaine
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| Light at the end of the tunnel
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| When you’re flexin' it’s hard to be humble
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| Talkin' fourth down, can’t throw the ball to Def Jam
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| Cause they might fumble
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| Kick that south flow that you can’t get
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| Try to fuck the world but my dick won’t fit
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| My bitch like «KRIT, motherfuck they feelings
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| You wanna be king, gotta claim that shit»
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| I’m talkin' 'bout off with they heads
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| When you put on a mink, gotta creep down stairs
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| When you come from the country
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| Your feet on the snakes would will make clothes out of bears
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| I ain’t playin' no games
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| I leave with the future, you follow these lames
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| I embody the South, the swing, the grain
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| The trunk with the bang, the gold in their mouth
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Ain’t no love in the coliseum
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| This shit here been a bloodsport
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| Keep what you kill, fuck if they live
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| Cause everybody out here cutthroat
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| I’ve been quietly waitin'
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| Deep in my dungeon, my stomach was rumblin', my belly was achin'
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| Everybody wanna see a monster
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| Till they see the monster, the monster holla out, «What's shakin'?»
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| I know what you thinking, this nigga shit, must not be stankin'
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| He must not know better at all
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| Titans collide, only Zeus could survive
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| If not me bitch, who the fuck you gone call?
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| To rain from the mountain tops
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| Still blood stains on the leaves
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| I don’t do it for the blog spot comment box, I do it for the OGs
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| And them country folk that can’t talk that shit
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| This ain’t your curb, don’t walk that bitch
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| This ain’t your porch, so keep off that shit
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| Go find a cliff and jump off that bitch
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| If you don’t think that I’m king
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| I done proved them wrong like twice, can’t stop my fight
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| I could murder your favorite rapper
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| And all I get is «No way a Mississippi nigga really that nice!»
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| Fuck em, fuck em, fuck em, fuck em, fuck em
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| I said it six times cause it’s my pleasure
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| Say it one more time for just for good measure, fuck em
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| Raised by the King that before me
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| Slowly crept up and still paid dues
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| I embody the South, the swang, the bang
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| The soul and the pain and the blues
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| Grew up on the country side of town
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| Now I’m ballin' under city lights
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| King of the south, king of the south, king of the south
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| Grew up on the country side of town |