[Intro]Gun cocking, shots fired.[Chamillionaire]\nThe sound of revenge, haha.\nWoo, tell em what it is mayne (tell em what it is).\n\n[Pastor Troy]\nWelcome to the New World Order.\nAtlanta, Georgia.\n\n[Chamillionaire]\nHouston, Texas, he already know.\n\n[Pastor Troy]\nThe south is takin over.\n\n[Chorus x2 - Chamillionaire]\nJust look overyour shoulder (shoulder)\nLet me see who just showed up (showed up)\nIt\'s the southern takeover (its over)\nYou betta tell em I got dreams to stand on top, try and stop (pop pop pop)[Killer Mike]\nIt\'s the mister fo fifth told em\nCookin coke with baking soda\nDub roller, pro smoker\nWood gripper, pistol whipper.\nMuck a nigga if he figure\nF**kin with my figures.\nMakes him richer, he should know.\nInstead, it\'ll make him better than a money f**kin with my money.\nGet yo money stacked right outta sunday school\nOn a bright and sunny sunday.\nThis ain\'t funny.\nI ain\'t jokin bout my coke and package come up shorter.\nMight kidnap yo wife and daughter.\nBury them down deep in Georgia.\nNo D.A.s a f**kin lawyer prosecutin witnesses.\nWe excutin, start the shootin, start the lukin,\nStartthe violence, start a riot.\nGet this motherfucker crunker, crunk as you can get it.\nPass that dro, I\'m a hit it.\nOutta line, we gon spit it,\nspit it vivid, cause i live it.\nYou don\'t walk it, you just talk it.\nPistol totin, and a loadin.\nThat\'s how smokin got this dope\nAnd i aint hopin, steady slangin\nRight on yo trappa block.\nTake your track, set up shop.\nTry and stop (pop pop pop).\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Chamillionaire]\nHey hey, this ain\'t about an image.\nThis ain\'t about a gimmick.\nP**sys stand to the side.\nNow the game got a menace.\nI damn seen a city that I think is not the realest.\nWe bummin on hisass.\nHe ain\'t finishin his sentence.\nI only got a minute.\nI feelin about a digit.\nYou lookin at a nigga like I ain\'t about to get it.\nI\'m lookin at the money like I ain\'t about to finish.\nYou need to mind your business.\nIf you ain\'t about your business.\nI\'m a H-town soldier.\nI\'m a come with the trunk up yeah I\'m a gon remind ya.\nIf you ain\'t gettin it you shoulda told ya father.\nNigga chamillionaire never show no problems.\nYou don\'t want no problem (problem).\nGet em g\'ed shoulda let the fo fo remind em.\nYa you tip on the ride em.\nI be ridin fo fos on the door beside em.\n6\' 6\" tall lookin likehe a center.\n10 tatoos lookin like he a killa.\nSkinny ass niggas don\'t fight with a nigga.\nPull out a billfold, put a price on a nigga.\nI have this camp fo put a knife in a nigga.\nFrom the car to his pocket then right in your liver.\nWas a big boy that put a slice in the middle.\nYa head fast think you hold a mike with the killa.\nDon\'t mess with the south homie, thats a dream,\nHallucinate or imagining so.\nDouble XL with the gats I mean,\nKeep somethin ready to blow in the magazine.\nAnd you know that southern cash is mean.\nFranklins frown for me when I stash my cream.\nPull up in candy paint thatmatch my green.\nKiller, Pastor, and Koopa are the master machine.\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Pastor Troy]\nY\'all know me, it\'s PT.\nWell I hunt and all of that,\nBlack on black, with black tip.\nI can\'t help but represent.\nI\'m not content, I want more.\nWho the f**k you take me for?\nStudio rappers not the fortay.\nI drop my top and bust my AK.\nNo mo play, nigga NGA.\nYeah, that\'s a classic.\nRidin in the classic.\nTote a mill, and I blast em.\nSend em to the casket.\nSend em to the morgue.\nSlap me a nigga cause i\'m motherf**kin bored.\nChamillionaire, I camoflouge in my surrounding.\nGet my desert E\'s and get to motherf**kin poundin.\nUp and down the streets,\nThrowin heat, out the driver\'s seat,\nRidin to the beat,\nTell them nigga just lay weak.\n\n[Chorus x2] and, Chamillionaire, feat, Killer, Mike, Plastor, Rap, Southern, Takeover, Troy, Us