Verse 1] BASS Who the one from the pine, whaddup y'all I'm the one from the grind, how low y'all Low below the Dixie Line, fuck with me I'll show ya how yield a quarter pound off the rippy I'm Catfish, bitch I am back in West east late night, who pump action Nadda nothing buddy, don't even bother him I told you I'm Catfish, I'm quick to swaller brim Young gangsters busting wanna act bad Wasting gun shells like Bush in Baghdad Top of the school I've got the chopper in soul Betcha he takes it like a motherfucking ho Glass breaking I have your mother ducking low Back down ha, now that's a motherfucking joke Southern boys got hot butter for your soul Cracker barrel full of dynamite so let's go
[Hook] My rattling trunk got them bobble heads looking Rear view mirrors got the world sitting crooked I am kick kicking, kick kick kick kicking Kick kicking, kick kick kick kicking These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters I'm playing those heaters I got that beater I am kick kicking kick kick kick kicking Kick kicking kick kick kick kicking
[Verse 2] Gimme that Kenwood, these kicks are tempting I'm throwing this shit up like bottles of Jim Beam Knockers dropping, models are modeling In vibrating seats so make knees start wobbling If you want it bad, well then I give you my pickle I'm so off the chain that I can't pedal my bicycle Ain't got no petro, still get it crunk though Leaving my tire marks and hip-hop centerfolds, ho I know that amplifiers heated up, ho I know the DJ wanna speed it up My shits snapping, it ain't snap music But you can lean back and throw it up, come on These Alabama boys connect with Atlanta boys Raised by them gun lovers who load up bananas boys Driving them Chevys and throwing D's on them Cadillacs Speakers and tweeters beating my whip got that rattle back
[Hook]
[Verse 3] Yeah I'm Southern, I'm crazy I'm driving Chevy's daily Holler at chee, burning tires I'm trashy but I'm fire yeah I'll stick em good, I'll show em up I'll show em hood, I don't give a fuck From the trailer park I hail king, don't get any part So watch your spelling In the evening they ring-a-ling-ling Cellular blowing up they wanna ding-a-ling I'm a leading scene The pimp of the leading team We number one over seven of Dixie of mafia family