Field Mob - K.a.n.

damn real i'm a country ass nigga, shawn show no shame
bare-foot on your block selling rock cocaine
georgia boy from the south spit when i talk,
smack when i eat, from the field pimp when i walk
whoa, lil daddy he ain't even not ready
field mob come ridin a stretch box chevy,
follow me now, i'm a take you where the good dope at call it butter
where the hood folks at, in the gutter
stay low, keep movin nah you can't stop
them boys infrared dot your du-rag and tanktop
that guerilla coke grown
suburban word with more grams than a old folks home now this the way i slang dick every which a way,
best get your bitch and pray she don't wanna get with J
but if i do mack your bitch,
you just shit outta luck like leprechaun laxative

chorus

i get sick if i ain't home in the south u can hear it in my voice
watch i get on the track and ride like a rolls royce
and lean in it, spit sixteen, supreme splendid
tipsy from tangueray with tangerines in it