Since When

We flava the music, chop this [bad word] that
Take you through church in a verse til you view fact
Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility
Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity

[Natti]
We own rap
[Deacon]
Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back
Our tracks? see, they be nappy
[Natti]
But you can't comb that
[Deacon]
Call it el natural sound of soul
You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown
[Natti]
From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known
My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes
You hear Natti, hot as caddies
With no steering column on them
[Deacon]
With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own
[Natti]
Since when did the south
[Deacon]
Get pinned in a drought
[Natti]
Not never been clever since bic pens been about
Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt
That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth

[Hook]
I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme
Some of y'all must be out of your god [bad word] mind
Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine
And niggaz been about them lines
Since When?
Ever since Pocket Full of Stones
Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome
Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul
And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'
Since When?

[Verse 2: Natti]
The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind
Like night sticks
Rain down on the game and [bad word] it up like white kicks
I might switch, south paw
[Deacon]
Knuckle to jaw
[Natti]
If another broke [bad word] spit about spending it all
I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck
So save that to pay back all your loans and debts
[Deacon]
Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit
[Natti]
We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch
[Deacon]
Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich
You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this
Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months
Hot though
[Natti]
Crock-pot flow
[Deacon]
So here dinner comes
Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads
[Natti]
Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close
[Deacon]
And these words are'nt slurred
Maybe how you listens blurred
You ain't feelin sickness served? [bad word] kiss a curb

[Hook]