(Pop a Dom boo, what, see'mon)

[Petey Pablo]
It's the dippy dippy don now you heard that
Let's take you back, where the original Tim the bird at?
I got shit here to make you down on twelve-pack

Call Rudy, tell him hook us up a twenty sack
See'mon see'mon see'mon, we ballin why'all
Where my cats think you feel me at?
Alla why'all, and when we earn that

They finally let the dish and the pan
Then I start with some cash
Let me get to Virginia (V-A) link up with Timbaland
Now I'm bustin they ass

Now they callin me The Incredible Man
I'ma shit it sick like YEAHHH
And there is one thing to understand
Why'all know what it is and Petey is just what I am

Spit what I spit cause I don't give a damn
Spin like just like why'all spin at the mall in blue drawers
On some do-rag, it's 'bout to be the all that is
New broad, new day, new cars, new motherfuckin deal

Heyyyyyy

[Chorus: Petey Pablo]
Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
If why'all feel it let me hear you say
Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
We lost the music selector
Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
If why'all feel it let me hear you say
Heyyyeyyyeyyyyy baby bubba
Well he caught me in the van, the gun chat lean fah-ward

[Timbaland]
Check me out in my black Trans-Am dippin on that man, who that be?
TIM-BA-land, now haters want to get at me
Just because we three brothers dippin in the FLY RIDE
He don't care though, nigga we just three FLY GUYS

All up in your local mall pickin all your local broads
HOLLA - if you want to get into a local brawl
We the in-timidators, why'all in-timidated
By our bling bling ring ring, and I can't debate it

LOWRIDERS (bzz bzzt) hittin on switches
As we PASS BY YA (bzz bzzt) in sun fire - see'mon!
What why'all need to do is throw that shit up, shit up
For the cool amigos with Tequila in the gut

What why'all know about them Southern girls with them big butts?
What why'all know about them buckshots bustin from a truck?
Yeah, yeah - that's that Southern hospitality
The come of the me, the come of the Pete
The come of the 'goo, the come of the G

[Chorus]

[Magoo]
Mag spit it 'til I die fucker
You wit your label kissin ass like a damn sucker
Meanwhile, Mag in Virginia in some house shoes, watchin the news
Do my album when I'm ready, tell my label to sue

If I got it I'ma get 'em, it's cornered and sell some (?)
From N-why to floater while I'm humpin your daughter
Stayin in the French quarter and listen to Juvenile
I like that South shit, all my niggaz is wild

You gotta come up with a new plan, I'm sayin man
South boys ain't fuckin playin - check them
This week got OutKast and No Limit, and Eightball
Scarface, Ludacris, and Goodie Mob, UHH

We do it country cause we proud of this shit
All those that want to hate on hip-hop can eat a dick
I ain't a thug and I ain't tryna be
They tryna take my love man and it bothered me

[Chorus: x 2]

Writer : MOSLEY, TIMOTHY / BARCLIFF, MELVIN / BARRETT, MOSES III
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group