Quit Hatin' The South Lyrics - Underground Kingz - Ugk

Uh, it's really goin' down in the South bitch 

Yeah nigga, we know hip hop and rap 

And all that shit started in the motherfuckin' East 

Know I'm sayin'? Then it went to the West coast 

And they did it a little bit better 

Know I'm sayin'? But now it's our time 

To shine down here nigga 

Know I'm sayin'? So since y'all niggaz keep sayin' 

We ain't real hip hop down here 

We don't wanna be down with you bitch ass niggaz 

So y'all stay up there with that bullshit 

This country rap tunes down here nigga 

Young Pimp, Young Bun, Underground Kingz 

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All the O.G.'s that's recognizin' the real 

I got love for y'all but all you bitch ass niggaz 

Talkin' down in ya records, you can eat a dick 

Hold up 

Pushin' cocaine, servin' pounds of weed 

Steady stayin' on the grind 

Pussy nigga can't say he ain't hatin' me 

Because if you did, then you wouldn't be lyin' 

But how in the hell am I supposed to respect the man? 

That talk down on every song 

You steady actin' like a bitch, you steady cryin' your eyes out 

Say my name pussy nigga, we can get the shit on, on, ooh yeah 

Quit hatin' the South, baby 

We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money 

Quit hatin' the South, baby 

Quit hatin' the South 

Photos 

Well, it's been a long time my nigga, I shouldn't have left you 

When I some real trill shit to go left to 

Gotta lot of respect fool, for the ones before me 

But when my time came they act like they ain't know me 

I've been down with rap music since Cold Crush and Melle 

Before MTV put Run-D.M.C. on the tele 

Back when Whodini tried to tell ya about ya friends 

Nigga I was givin' rap all my time and my ends 

Bought damn near every record the motherfucker dropped 

West coast gangsta music, East coast hip hop 

Now it's our time to shine and the tables is turned 

Them motherfuckers aggravated 'cause we gettin' some burn 

There's no room for everybody, just a few niggaz is swole 

Probably 'cause they favorite rappers ain't in control 

But just let go of the past 'cause it's hurtin' your hands 

And pass it over to the next generation of fans 

And quit hatin' the South, baby 

We gettin' paper in the South, getting' money 

Quit hatin' the South, baby 

Quit hatin' the South 

I'm blastin' off on you hoes like NASA 

You double standards and hypocrisy remind me of Massa 

We ain't good enough to eat at ya table but when ya dick get hard 

You wanna run up with I from the get coke but I'm still clockin' figures 

Bitch hoe cock suckin' nigga 

And that goes for all you visitors too 

If you don't like it down here, get the fuck on fool 

They say you can't rap and they questionin' our intellect 

Friendly ass niggaz jumpin' bad on the Internet 

Ain't nobody typin' that much can't be a danger 

Catch you in person, bitch I'll break yo' fingers 

It's some trash in the South but I promise you 

From the East to the West, some of y'all garbage too 

As long as the beat knock and the lyrics hot, son 

I can give a rat's ass where a rap is from 

I remember N.W.A. and PE 

Had me feelin' like a rapper was the thing to be 

You can't fuck with Willie D, UGK either 

Disrespectin' the code, does motherfuckers neither 

Quit hatin' the South, baby 

We gettin' paper in the South, gettin' money 

To all the radio, TV and even the press 

Been hatin' on the Sizz-outh like we ain't impress 

Y'all think we came in the place, say man we came in the state 

Y'all shoulda listened to Andre, bitch we got somethin' to say 

And all you washed up rappers, you ain't what it's about 

I see y'all tryin' rap like us and puttin' grills in ya mouth 

Y'all buy the beat, buy the beat like y'all bouncin' and twerkin' 

But hoe we know what's goin' on and bitch that bullshit ain't workin' 

I'ma O.G. Rock Ball, write my name up on the wall 

Fuck yo' bitch and hit the switch and put my dick up in her jaw 

I'm Sweet Jones, fucked a clone, legend on the microphone 

Player's choice, silver Royce, keep yo' bitch's pussy moist 

I'm bumped the school, that's how I do, sippin' drank, each teen night 

In Benz, big blue lens, knock this bitch and fuck with her friend 

Candy cart, squeeze 'em out, bought the ranch man fuck the house 

And y'all still gotta buy y'all dope from us 

So what the fuck you bitch niggaz talkin' 'bout? 

All you ole sensitive ass niggaz, know I'm talkin' 'bout? 

Y'all niggaz on y'all period up there bitch 

Know I'm talkin' 'bout? Y'all hide behind them e-mail addresses 

Sendin' that bullshit through the air 

Bitch, say my name bitch, I'ma come to ya house 

Fuck how you feel, country rap tunes nigga 

They put all y'all records on one side of the store 

And put all the country rap music on the other side of the store 

And see who sell out first 

Bitch ass nigga, it's ya own fault ya shit ain't sellin' 

You reap what you sew and fuck you in ya pussy 

Keep talkin' that shit 

Them young gladiators go come get you too partner 

Already, UGK for life, fuck how you feel about it bitch 

Young Pimp