[Intro: Big Boi]

Yeah, I’m back off in this b*tch one more time

To drop this rhyme, about where my roots at

Yeah, Westside is in the house

Frazier Homes is in the house

Cloverdale is in the house

And Savannah, GA is in the house, so check it…

[Verse 1: Big Boi]

February 1st, 1975 it happened

Was born in West Savannah way before I started rappin'

My mamma had a n*gga at the age of fifteen

My daddy was sellin' that sack, now he's gots responsibilities

Stayed at me granny's while me mammy was at work

And she couldn't watch my every move so sh*t I started servin'

Around Frazier Home, down in the Westside projects

Changin' over foodstamps, and hittin' a lick was next see

I'm just a playa like that, my jeans was sharply creased

I got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed East

So flyin', or floatin', a Brougham is what I'm sportin'

Sade is in my tape deck, I'm moving in slow motion, boi

So meet me deep in the streets that's where I learned the capers

Us lickin' blunts, lickin' leaves, rolling reefer papers

I'm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucket

But the n*ggas around the Ave. and the hoes, they love me (Yeah)

They wanna be me and my family too

Because the money that I make be puttin' cable off in every room

So follow the fiends, follow my lead through the nooks and crannies

It's everyday life off in my hood so come and holla at me

But go 'head on, with that foolishness b*tch

Let me get lovely with my swerve because I'm true to this sh*t

And if you coming with eight dollars, you sh*t out of luck

Because the Westside ain't taking no shorts on the dime

So fire it up

[Hook: Sleepy Brown]

Now, now, now, nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch

Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!

(like that now, like this, and it don't quit, and it don't stop)

Nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch

Diggin' the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!

(and it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and ah)

[Verse 2: Big Boi]

See, n*ggas in the South wear gold teeth and gold chains

Been doing it for years, so these n*ggas ain't gone change

They coming around the ghetto so you might call em soul

Been wearing furry Kangol's, so that sh*t is old

You might slang a rock or two just to pay the rent

Five dollars for a table dance so now your money's spent

You listen to that booty shake music in your trunk

As long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump

I'm down to stick a ho if she got a G-string

'Cause the n*ggas in the Point ain't changed, man

You might call us country, but we's only Southern

And I don't give a f*ck, P-Funk spot to spark another

[Hook]