Intro: Eightball
He he he, yeeah

Verse 1: Eightball
What kind of nigga always run his mouth like a hoe
Like his jaw got a battery, this nigga always know
Who got robbed, got shot, who got put on lock
Nobody invited you and still you got up in the
spot Me, I'm not a witness, keep my distance, mind
my business You, somebody talk, you in they mouth
like a dentist We keep it gangsta, mommas love it
cause they know it's real Like UGK, "we keeps
it real" mobbin' through the field Big Ball,
Fatboy, unload heat when my brain spill You for
it, images without no coke connect pills We keep
it crunk and poppin' real niggaz know the deal We
Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill You try
to stop it, get yo' shit broke up in twenty pieces
We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit secret
features Game preachers move yo' pimpin' for you
mamasitas We players on the field, y'all niggaz in
them bleachers

Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)
You talkin' down behind my back (uh) you done shot
off nigga Fifty, four or twenty sack, you done
shot off nigga If you fly and got a gun (uh) when
the drama come, you run (uh) You know what you
just done, you done shot off nigga

Verse 2: MJG
Man, come on now, you done shot off just like Mike
Davis lost a knockoff Or his tight-ass shirt when
the button pop off You standin' it's snowin' you
got yo' shoes and socks on Who holds the key? No
fucking bout it, I broke the lock off I grew the
top off, took the comma, period, dot off And ran
on wit it and broke you a whole lot off I'm
gettin' hot and startin' to boil, don't turn the
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/jGapot off You just affected wit it, pimpin' yo, get
yo' rocks off Release some pressure, stop all that
cryin' and wipe ya snot off Excuses you be usin'
for losin' it's cheap as hot sauce Earn yo'
position, stop hatin' beacuse you not boss M-J-G,
pimp tight, I'm movin' yo' spot off And I don't
reach, stoppin' yo' plans, fucking yo' plot off I
go hard and I don't sheave and I'm not off And
livin' on the edge rebellin' I'm never dropped off
Like Aaron Hall, "Don't Be Afraid"
bitch, call the cops off

Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)

Verse 3: Ludacris
Now you can either check yo' ego at the do' (door)
or let the drama unfold And check my Rap Sheet,
BITCH, I'm almost ten million sold I'm only
rappin' cause I want to, I got enough plaques
Needless to say, my favorite rappers told me to
get on this track And so I DID it, quickly wrote
my sixteen down and SPIT it By the end of the
verse you'll say, "once again, Ludacris SHIT
it" Then I'll wipe this wit yo' face and put
yo' pride in the trash My whole career is like my
video, I'm showin' my ass I keeps it,
"gangsta, gangsta!" shooters and
shanksters Until you shot off motherfuckers, I'm a
"thank ya, thank ya!" Runnin' yo' mouth
behind my back until you run out of time But at
least yo' talkin' let's me know some millions stay
on yo' mind It ain't nothin' wrong wit that Tell
em grabbin' the thang and then I put it to yo'
brain And change everything you ever hope fo'
(for) wit the .44 You'll be fallin' back And Yacht
- is what I'm drinkin' steady thinkin' bout these
pigs chasin' I'm bout to bring home the bacon

Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 4X)