Since When Lyrics

Deacon
We flava the music, chop this screw that
Take you through church in a verse til you view fact
Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility
Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity

Natti
We own rap

Deacon
Fo sho as cognac'll twist yo dome back
Our tracks? see, they be nappy

Natti
But you can't comb that

Deacon
Call it el natural sound of soul
You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown

Natti
From, 'tween these parts and the ones ?nere known
My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes
You hear natti, hot as caddies with no steerin column on ?em

Deacon
With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own

Natti
Since when did the south

Deacon
Get pinned in a drought

Natti
Not never been clever since big pens been about
Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt
That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth

Hook

I hear em talkin ?bout Southern folks can't rhyme
Some of yall must be out ya got damn mind
Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine
And niggaz been about them lines
Since When?
Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones
Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome
Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul
And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do?
Since When?

Natti
The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks
Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks
I might switch, south-paw,

Deacon
Knuckle to jaw

Natti
If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all
I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck
So save that to pay back all your loans and debts

Deacon
A Maybach and a plaque? is that all you get? shhhit

Natti
We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch

Deacon
Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich
Ye? ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this
Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months
Hot though

Natti
Crock-pot flow

Deacon
So here dinner comes
Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads

Natti
Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close

Deacon
And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred
You ain't feelin sickness served?? muhfucka kiss a curb