Текст песни Country Shit (feat. Ludacris, BIG K.R.I.T., BUN B) - Dj Hard Hitta

Yeah
I been waiting to tell them about this country shit
I'm a learn ya
You ready?
LUDA!
Let me tell ya bout these old school Chevy's
Cadillac SS Impalas
If you smoking then we got mo' sacks then Troy Polamalu
Yo partners want some quarters, my partners want some keys
In Atlanta we get that paper can you haters say cheese?
Ten-thousand watt amps, six-fifteen inch kcikers
My trunk bumpin like an injected ass shots like a stripper
No insurance on these whips tags all outdated
I might not be shit too you, but my momma thinks I made it
We goin ball till we fall on this ganja get us wasted
And I never drink that white; all my women think I'm racist
On that brown with a twist, tell these hoes to reminisce
That my name is Ludacris and I'm like BIATCH!

Let me tell you bout this super fly dirty dirty Third coast muddy water
Shawty pop that pussy if ya wanna
Let me tell you bout this Old school pourin' lean candied yams and collard greens
Pocket fulla stones ridin' clean
Let me tell you bout this country shit
Country country shit (country country shit)
Let me tell you bout this country shit
Country country shit (country country shit)
Let me tell you bout this country shit
Country country shit (country country shit)
Let me tell you bout this country shit
Country country shit (country country shit)

I told em ah man hold up country is what country does
In my crooked letter hoe, who you know do it better foe?
Pull up, hop out clean, in my old school time ma-chine
Keep a parachute for this altitude cause when ya riding this high make it hard to breathe
Mayday, hollin out payday
Macking pictures off the wall when I creep
Pros get wet as fuck when I speak
Southern draw is just the way it be
Heavy like sumo, numero uno
Pourin' up Brown she sippin on Nuvo
Pimpin' so cold never trick on a hoe outta space with the flow
Like I'm living on Pluto, you know
Bitch, I'm UGK influenced
Slow it down, chop-chop and screw it
For the folks in Texas they forever wrecking
With the Styrofoam cup and the purple fluid
Return of 4eva I thought'cha knew it
Country shit that's all I see
That's all I know, that's all I feel
That's all I am, that's all I'll be

Candy-candy paint and 'lac berets
Sitting on 24's in bows
Pull up on the scene and I mack ya bitch
It ain't hard to tell I suppose she chose
She sending over the clothes, the wigs and shoes
This Charlie Sheen pimpin too big to lose
Roll with trues and keep girls in twos
Boy you must of heard wrong well you been confused
See I'm the big brother of Sweet James
I know all about these street games
When the trick goin pay, the chick goin stay
So she can't lie about what she brang
I'm certified like U.S.D.A.
Representing Texas straight up outta P.A.
Graduated school of hard knocks with a BA
Right under the nose of the vice and the D.A.
Anything we say take it as a law nigga
When I'm in the booth no rubber I'm raw nigga
Talk down or get bust in ya jaw nigga
Like I'm ya pa go run tell ya ma nigga
No flaw nigga one-hundred percent
Old school no glass house I'm under the tent
Ask anybody here who's running this shit
It's big Bun in this bitch