[Ad-libs]
Yeah
Khujo Goodie!
It's that blood connection (tell it)
Mark Twain-Twain-Twain-Twain!
Southwest Armstrong with this game
Baby, baby, believe that!
[Chorus]
We keep it crunk off the RIP, what?
Bankhead stay crunk off the RIP, what?
Boulevard keep it crunk off the RIP, what?
Robinson stay crunk off the RIP, what?
ATL stay crunk off the RIP, what?
Decatur, Georgia keep it crunk off the RIP, what?
Sinson Road they keep crunk off the RIP, what?
Stockbridge (come on) crunk off the RIP (RIP)
[Verse 1: Khujo Goodie]
Off the RIP don't trip
You got a family, think about them
Stop looking at me like he never seen it happen, on T.V
Heard you were jacking
Back it up chop, chop tear it up
Snatching longfish like taking taking candy from a baby manny's gravy, uh
Maybe you shouldn't try to sell homes then you slowing the drive throwing up
On back woods like you should you could
Get your dough
Spit
Red trunk mixed rat blue onions
Cut to the ATL pump
Represent the crypt we keep it crunk all day thick
If I could, get my nuts but
You gots to have energy
When you snatching these jinx out they wood grain 2K
Heading 99 mile per hour thinking these but head
Keep it old school youngin'
All black now let me put it in
This week is average this week big body biz
Get the green light if you have any problems, it's rare
We get another more cooperative so I'm a hate hero
Thinking cool drama but getting shredded like some coleslaw, oh
It's so raw, but beating people and rapping is my bread and butter
But off the rails I keeps it gutter
Uh, off the RIP, uh
[Chorus]
'Jo Goodie keep it crunk off the RIP
Mark Twain stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Armstrong keep it crunk off the RIP
It's hard hard (what?) we keep it crunk off the RIP, what?
Northside stay crunk off the RIP
Southside stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Westside stay crunk off the RIP
Eastside stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
[Verse 2: Mark Twayne]
Yeah, you know once you jump off it ain't no pulling back
On the corner bumping marijuana and powder packs
These niggaz watching my every move off in the hood
The po-po all in my grille, but it's still, all wood (wood)
Stay to the ground with this thing called representing the South
What they don't know about this dirty I tell it from my mouth
It's blood connect so don't act like you ain't heard it before
Gone jump this thing off the RIP when we step through the door
This for my folk in the trap, bumping them triple Z's
Ain't making enough on they check working at Mickey D's
And all my folk in deject with a baby to feed
Done came up on some of that hard and got O's for them G's
What it is, what it ain't
They killing off in the paint
Little buddy got hit with a slug over a bag of dank
Ways of the streets
Laws of the concrete, dirty
Hit the gas so we can make this bitch crank, dirty
It's off the RIP
[Chorus]
Goodie MOB keep it crunk off the RIP
Youngbloodz stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Attic Crew they get crunk off the RIP
Unknowns stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Slic Patna stay keep it crunk off the RIP
Dungeon Family stay crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
GA keep it crunk off the RIP
Everybody stay crunk off the RIP
[Verse 3: Southwest Armstrong]
Came hotter than the two out
Pistol, that's off the RIP
Don't tolerate controversy just fill you with holes and watch it drip drop
Come out and ride this thing cause sailing deeper than Nova
Ain't nothing cooler on thirties and fours
Catch this bitch in my rims
I'm back just pimping my prim
Let me pre-school you slow, ho
And we'll be rolling you ain't knowing about this street lesson
They fully loaded on currency and weapon
And bids up to the power of suggestion
That's off the RIP
I'm just a felon away from wasting your ass and doing the time with no guilt
Follow the script
Reverse this game like eights
When I hit your state spitting game
Leaving them hoes drip
Like somebody taking prints and making monster grip
Standing tall and then fall this game on gold stilts
Busting at haters, that's off the RIP
That's off the RIP
[Chorus]
Uh, Zone 1 keep it crunk off the RIP
Zone 2 staying crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Zone 3 keep it crunk off the RIP
Zone 4 staying crunk off the RIP, what, what, what?
Zone 5 keep it crunk off the RIP
Khujo
Gipp
T-Mo (Uh-huh)
Y'all know how we do it down here in this dirty, man
It's your boy Nitty, and you know what I do
We gone represent this thing right to the fullest (alright)
Southwest (what?), Dent (who?), East Point (what?), College Park, where y'all at?
All my niggaz, you know what time it is
Y'all know how we get down
To the fullest
Alright
Let's do it
[Verse 1: Khujo]
K to the H to the U to the J to the O G double O D to the I to the E
One for the G MO to the B
Schooled by the B to the E to the S to the T
Hundred percenter, so winner
Suck up and see the venom like it ain't no thing
Then wash it down it with a glass of Tang
Bang cock suck them rappers mouthing off in a magazine
See the fire, feel the flame
Jacktime Atlanta mafia came
We don't care who you with
Screw your name
Snatch your chain
Street punks messing up the game
Once a lame, always a lame
Trick busters ain't who they claim
Come around here wiling out, you will get changed
It's business, never personal
Get it with a chain on your brain
Get it with a lick we, um, at a shooting range
You can holler God MC, but you gone die like a man
Blood is pain
I make it simple and plain
Blat point blank range
All these poppas leave the bathroom in his name
It's a crying shame
What a nigga do for the fame!
[Ad-libs]
This is what really goes down in the South
We gone get down shawty
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Drank smoke dro
Stack dough
Pimp hoes
Pockets on swole with a mouth full of gold
How we ride in the South
Playing house four doors
Drop the top when it's hot
Pump the heat when it's cold
[Verse 2: Big Gipp]
Remember me?
Big Gipp, AKA the Big Dipper
Moon pot flipper
If the flame fizzle
I'm a go to the block and set the niggaz
Most improved hitter
In the pocket like a rocket is how I like it
I'm a cantaloupe spitter
Let the horn blow
Hoes too
Hold true and drive through
If I couldn't walk around I took the train or flew
Look what it come to
More hugs, more lies, more love, more flies
More ways of turning corners burning up my new rally tires
I keep it stinking like Doritoes
Never owned a pair of Speedos
Never slacking Cadillac jacking
Damn he just so sweet
Choking Killa B with no tint
Want the whole world to see
Thorugh the tree
Glass house, rag top, and pass out
Hit the stash house
Get what I need and then I mash out
Couple turkey legs
Throw a few golds up in my head
Comprehend what I said
This is truly how it be representing for East Point
When I'm standing in the field
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Murder]
You can find me
Somewhere in Decatur in a Chevy and I'm riding on dubs
Or you might see
Me coming through the streets with a freak in the late night clubs
Hustling for that cheese
Standing in the hood in the cut me and my dog on a shopping spree
From the west did a robbery and I saw my first call hit jazzy T
Then we hit Magic City and headed for the bounce
Blowing chronic leaves
Or should I say dro?
My click won't blow by the ounce
Lyrical arsonist
Living in the slums in Atlanta they got me for me murder
I run with the hardest clique
In the S.W.A.T.s to the deck I was a hard ass nigga
Better show you we off in a velvet room
Was fucking in a gentleman club
We in VIP
Sipping crystal
From the goose to the yack
We can see SOV, Goodie MO B my nigga Khujo
On a plate trying to get rich
The way that we spit be ridiculous
And we'll go head over any lyricist
From Gooben to Cambleton Road
Platinum making fee all the way to College Park
From Bankhead to Gabbey Road
My whole clique nothing in the city ever born so hard
This is for
The niggaz with the dough and whips sitting on two threes
So all the real motherfuckers can forget about the ghetto with a real 'Lac
In the streets
[Chorus]
[Verse 4: T-Mo]
It's the dirty dirty playa
Just hit thirty
Bullseye
Better not cry
Make birds fly
Off in the sky
Away so high
Everybody dies
Many try, miss
Get what you get boy
Talk that shit boy
Flip them bills
Crooks get killed
Nine millimill
Running them suckers up out the ville
Trill
Still, waters run deep
Off in the South
While they sleep
Off in the South
While they creep
Open up your mouth and sing!
Off in the South we
Built this bitch
Run this bitch
Hit that switch
Up and down
Flip that trick
Ride it 'round
Black white doors
Pound for pound one of the best to ever represent the mighty southwest
ATL to the fullest
ATL to the fullest!
[Ad-libs]
There you have it
I want to congratulate all the DJs
Who got a chance to play this record without the club getting tore up
From yours truly
Sincerely
[Ad-libs]
Yeah
On this one we gonna get a little crowd participation on this one right here
Y'all just repeat it before right here
[Chorus: repeat 4X]
You already know, know, know, know
You already slow
[Verse 1]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, come on
Privilege abuser
Land cruiser
Ten time loser
First offender
No surrender, down
Wherever we don't surrender no charity
Orchestrating me and a nigga off sales
Vinyl, satisfaction guaranteed
'Jo Goodie stampede on Balboa
You Apollo king
I may look like a rapper but I'm a known clapper
Cleaning out your stash
Slanging hot brass
In a class, all by myself
You slept, I stayed awake
Goodie niggaz have the spirit of a snake
Bro got it like chin check
D.F., here to stay
Like love and hate
I'm on your plate
Eating every crumb
Cause I don't have none
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, come on
This Khujo "Gun Club" Goodie at your service
I specialize in whacking bosses and they surface
Ain't no rules or parameters
Professional, we pity the amateur
'Bout time I get some cunk, fifty might some slug
In my cross bugs
Ain't here to assassinate your character more like erase ya
From paper
Whenever there's a problem with troublemakers
Certified hitman
Ain't no store pipe paid
Blacktalians
Rhinos
Don't waste your fare on anybody armor cause I'm a bomb 'em
Yeah, yeah, you already know
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, come on
Capital K H, U, J, O
One more for the G, double O
D-I-E, M, to the O
Check the stats that pulled your credentials
Pow!
Nobody now
Who's that peaking in my window?
Dirty South!
Boy, with a plate of this old-fashioned Soul Food all we did was dis dude
Nigga, ain't nobody changing
This my Attic cause Twayne hooked up with Armstrong this game in trouble
Yah! I'm the scoop that sat beside the double doors and let in all the bros
It's you and I done forgot about the struggle
In the corner swinging like aluminum loaded slugs
Focused next on your jugular
[Chorus
[Ad-libs]
Yo, what's up?
What's up, playa?
What's up, kinfolk?
Oh yeah, we down it with it down here
We shines up the dubs
We blow dro, we glass it up
Oh yeah, we rag it back, we put the hard top on that thing, shawty
Do it like my west coast homies, put it on the ground, let fire come out the back
What y'all know about that?
[Verse 1: Slip Matola]
It's going down
Young ballers with seven figures
Eighty foot candy painted yachts on the river
Platinum hitters
That's all I delivers
Tattoos
On all affiliates and members
Say hoes, Little J drops in December
Until then, I bails through the land of gang members
Hot hoppers
Scandalous hoes and crooked coppers
24/7 we grind feds try to pop us
Can't stop us
Whole clique back out on choppers
And rock by my side quick to blast like Binoca
We do it dubs
This year it's 22s
Via satellite live on BET News
We crack rap
Street niggaz demand scratch
Front and back
Rack Bentleys with ice plaques
Bombing on buses hurting hating it's like "whoah!"
And if you didn't know I straight bang for my logo
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Bending corners
Hitting switches
Swerving these trays on big bunk suspensions
Come on shawty, come on shawty, come on shawty, come on shawty, come on
Shawty, come on shawty, come on shawty!
[Verse 2: Khujo]
All my west coast homies slam on your brakes
Hit the gas
Go slow, go fast
Atlanta niggaz drive the ass
Down the yellow brick road in a flash
Khujo Goodie, A-Town boss jack
In a lumbalac
Keep, off the sack
This how I'm yacking in an alien swerving
Deuce trays cutting them up like surgeons
Hit them indiscriminate hollering like virgins
Don't come through here facing fly they calling me like serving
Lick hitting got us in dips splurging
Reckless
In the empress
With the gold fist padding
Plus it's bitching
Bending corners over snakes vanilla busters attracting all the neighborhood
Jailbaits
Mustard and mayonnaise, it's icing on the damn cake!
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Mark Twayne]
I represent that 105 Crear Road
I hit the block in Chevy with the brains blown
I put it down for my folk on flat shores
Over to Clay Cole back up to Pinona Road
Them South boys with a mouth full of gold
Off in the door cliqued up with the west coast
Hitting switches, candy paint on Lo-Los
Bending corners, looking for them po-po
.45 cap with extra clips in the back (back)
Chromed out wheels with the bump in the match (match)
Drop that ass to the floor whenever we hit the gas (gas)
Kept them switching lane to lane blowing on dro when I pass (pass)
Rolex on voes, deuces on six-fours (fours)
Hit the trunk with the dro hauling the money carload (load)
Southwest connect, from LA to the Deck
Slip Matola, Khujo Goodie, Mark Twayne, doing jets
We..
