| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| To all it was
|
| All it is
|
| And all it shall be
|
| New South
|
| Uh, yeah, yeah (motherfuckers)
|
| I gotta key Bubba answers, a kilo of questions
|
| The heart for humility, that ego perplexes
|
| Strength, will and honor, a hero’s possessions
|
| On the road to destiny I need no directions
|
| Far to Southerners, the best man the winner
|
| And only this morning does the best man remember
|
| Fighters seen the weak, more success than inventors
|
| And a saint never ever suffers less than a sinner
|
| But I’m proud to admit that this shit no longer
|
| Phases or amazes me, I only grow stronger
|
| At any given moment this world can so long ya
|
| Box you up, drop you in the dirt and slow song ya
|
| So every blessed minute I’m breathin
|
| I’m conceivin, for when I do perish, reasons for your grievin
|
| That’s not to say I plan on leavin here this evening
|
| I’ll be in Honolulu with Steven next season
|
| Dear God, left, right
|
| Life will pass by
|
| Breathe in, exhale
|
| I scream, you yell
|
| New South! |
| (New South!)
|
| New South! |
| (New South!)
|
| Ew, a ew, (break it down)
|
| Ew, a ew (break it down)
|
| And we gonna rush 'em with a blitz on this
|
| Go round the world and hit every other upper scale and project brick with it
|
| Bubba Sparxxx who meet with the Organized Godly beat
|
| Man it’s funny how God can be when you work hard to achieve
|
| It’s still slaw nigga (*vocal scratch*), spittin that Pac liquor
|
| This is straight up pocket party, your summer that not nigga
|
| Classical rhymes got most cats tryna battle with Ken
|
| Bet they won’t «go up shit creek without they paddle again»
|
| Come down to my town, bet you won’t visit Athens again
|
| And I write that hard har, roll like I got crack in my pen
|
| But since your so happy that things go exactly as planned
|
| Don’t clack if we land, then it’s crack a lackin again
|
| Then most of these clowns up outta the pay
|
| All I need is a stout, clean your coolatta and day
|
| And the day that I’m able to finally get outta the game
|
| What this hip hop has become is what the New South gotta change
|
| Bring it back
|
| What difference does it make, who I’m affiliated with
|
| Cause if you love 'em, how could you have really hated this
|
| All the groundbreakin these hillbilly maders did
|
| Wasn’t no room for +Bubba Talk+ until we made it did
|
| I flow for Jimmy Mathis on that bus route daily
|
| And for momma June and all she fuss about lately
|
| I’m a get it white, if your hairless for Governor
|
| I’m tellin y’all the yanks ain’t prepared for this southerner
|
| C-Dub certified, DF, dignitary
|
| Beat Club, they applaud, New South, visionary
|
| In spite of the efforts y’all made to pigeon hole me
|
| I rose from the pig shit without a smidgen on me
|
| At 15, 90, Adam’s drive makin miracles
|
| For these many much, yes and everyday is pivotal
|
| I’m no entertainer so what I say is literal
|
| You say you «New South», faker tat it on your genitals |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Way Down South, artist - Bubba Sparxxx. Album song Made On McCosh Mill Road, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп