quit hatin’ the south lyrics – ugk

(feat. charlie wilson and willie d)

[intro: pimp c]
uh! it’s really goin down in the south b*tch!
yeah n*gg*! we know hip-hop and rap and all that sh*t started in the
m*th*f*ckin east
knalmsayin? then it went to the west coast and they did it a little bit better
knalmsayin? but now it’s our time to shine down here n*gg*!
knalmsayin? so since y’all n*gg*z keep sayin we ain’t real hip-hop down here
we don’t wanna be down with you b*tch *ss n*gg*z!
so y’all stay up there with that bullsh*t!
this country rap tunes down here n*gg*!
young pimp! young bun! underground kingz!
all the og’s that’s recognizing the real, i got love for y’all
but all you b*tch *ss n*gg*z talkin down in ya records, you can eat a d*ck!
hold up!

[charlie wilson (pimp c):]
pushin cocaine, serving pounds of weed (pounds of weed p*ssy n*gg*)
steady stayin on the grind (steady grinding, stay in the studio n*gg*)
p*ssy n*gg* can’t say he ain’t hating me (i know you hating me b*tch.. hold up)
because if you did, then you wouldn’t be lying (hold up)
but how in the h*ll am i supposed to respect the man? (if it ain’t respected, it ain’t respected)
that talk down on every song (i hear you talkin down n*gg*!)
you steady actin like a b*tch, you steady cryin your eyes out (stop crying b*tch!)
say my name p*ssy n*gg*, we can get the sh*t on.. on..
ooooooooh yeah! (knalmtalkinbout?)

[chorus: charlie wilson]
quit hatin the south… (baby)
we gettin paper in the south… (gettin money)
quit hatin the south… (baby)
quit hatin the south…

[bun b:]
well it’s been a long time my n*gg*, i shouldn’t have left you (i shouldn’t have left)
when i some real trill sh*t to go left to
gotta lot of respect fool (yeah), 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 (melle)
before mtv put run-dmc on the tele (tele)
back when whodini tried to tell ya about ya friends
n*gg* i was giving rap all my time and my ends
bought d*mn near every record the m*th*f*cka dropped
west coast gangsta music, east coast hip-hop
now it’s our time to shine and the tables is turned
them m*th*f*ckas aggravated ’cause we gettin some burn
“there’s no room for everybody, just a few n*gg*z is swole” (why is that?)
proabably ’cause they favorite rappers ain’t in control
but just let go of the past ’cause it’s hurtin your hands
and p*ss it over to the next generation of fans
and quit hatin the south


[willie d:]
i’m blastin off on you hoes like nasa
you double standards and hypocrisy, remind me of m*ssa
we ain’t good enough to eat at ya table but when ya d*ck get hard
you wanna run up with the ?
i from the get.. c*ke but i’m still clockin figures
b*tch.. hoe.. c*cksuckin n*gg*
and that goes for all you visitors too
if you don’t like it down here, get the f*ck on fool!
they say you can’t rap and they questioning our intellect
friendly *ss n*gg*z jumpin bad on the internet
ain’t n*body typing that much, can’t be a danger
catch you in person, b*tch 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 *ss where a rapper is from
i remember nwa and pe
had me feelin like a rapper was the thing to be
you can’t f*ck with willie d, ugk either
disrepsecting the code, ? m*th*f*ckas neither

[chorus: 1/2]

[pimp c:]
to all the radio, tv, and even the presses
been hatin on the sizz-outh like we ain’t ready
y’all think we came in the place, say man we came in the state
y’all shoulda listened to andre, b*tch we got somethin to say
and all you washed up rappers, you ain’t what it’s about
i see y’all tryna rap like us and puttin grills in ya mouth
y’all buy the beat, buy the beat, like y’all bouncin and twerkn
but hoe we know what’s goin on and b*tch that bullsh*t ain’t workin
i’ma og rock balll, write my name up on the wall
f*ck yo’ b*tch and hit the switch and put my d*ck up in her jaw
(i’m sweet) jones, f*cked a clone, legend on the microphone
player’s choice, silver royce, keep yo’ b*tch’s p*ssy moist
i’m b*mped the school, that’s how i do, sippin drank, each teen night
in benz, big blue lens, knock this b*tch and f*ck with her friend
candy cart, squeeze ’em out, bought the ranch man f*ck the house
and y’all still gotta buy y’al dope from us so what the f*ck you b*tch
n*gg*z talkin ’bout? [echoes]

[outro: pimp c]
all you ole sensitive *ss n*gg*z! knalmtalkinbout?
y’all n*gg*z on y’all period up there b*tch!
knalmtalkinbout? y’all hide behind them e-mail addresses
sending that bullsh*t through the air!
b*tch! say my name b*tch, i’ma come to ya house!
f*ck how you feel, country rap tunes n*gg*!
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… b*tch *ss n*gg*!
it’s ya own fault ya sh*t ain’t sellin!
you reap what you sew!
f*ck you in ya p*ssy!
keep talkin that sh*t, them young gladiators go come get you too patna!
already, ugk for life, f*ck how you feel about it b*tch!
young pimp

/ ugk lyrics