[Chamillionaire] + (Killer Mike)   The Sound of Revenge   Haha whoo   Tell 'em what it is man   (Welcome to the new world order   Atlanta, Georgia)   Houston, Texas   Y'all ready      [Chorus: Chamillionaire] + (Killer Mike)   Just look over your shoulders, shoulders   Got something to show ya, show ya   It's the southern takeover, its over   You better tell 'em   (I got dreams to stand on top   Try and stop, blot blot block)   Just look over your shoulders, shoulders   Got something to show ya, show ya   It's the southern takeover, its over   You better tell 'em   (I got dreams to stand on top   Try and stop, blot blot block)      [Killer Mike]   It's the mister falcon toter, cook cook coke with baking soda   Blunt roller, dro smoker, wood gripper, pistol whipper   Light ya nigga if he figure fuckin wit my click will make him   Richer, he should know instead of it will make him deader   Deader money, fucking with my money, get yo money   Stacked right out of Sunday School   On a bright and sunny sunday, this ain't funny   I ain't joking bout my coke and package from a shaolin   Might kidnap your wife and daughter, bury them down deep in Georgia   No D.A. or fucking lawyers prosecuting witnesses   We executing, start to shooting, starting to do this fucking violence   Start a riot, get this motherfucker crunk or as crunk you can get it   That that dro, I'ma hit it, out of line, nigga I spit it   Spit it, live it, cause I live it, you don't walk it, you just talkin   Pistol totin and they knowing that's my snow and got his dope and   I ain't holdin, steady slangin, right on your black-a-block   Hit your trap, set up shop, try and stop, blot blot block      [Chorus]      [Chamillionaire]   This ain't about a image, this ain't about a gimmick   Cause you stand to the side and the game gotta diminish   I'm damn sure that this city don't think that he the realest   He whooping on his ass before he finishing his sentence   I've only got a minute to tell you about a digit   You looking at a nigga like I ain't about to get it   I'm looking at the money like I ain't about to finish   So you need to mind your business if you worried bout your business   Uh, I'm a H-Town Soldier, I'ma come   With the trunk up, and don't remind cha   If you say your getting it, shoulda told chu bout a   Nigga named Chamillionaire that's fo sho a problem   You don't want no problem, probably gonna need the fo-fo remind 'em   Yeah you tip on and ride em, We ride 4-4s when the dough beside 'em   6'6 taller looking like he a sinner, 10 tattoos looking like he a killer   Skinny ass niggaz don't fight with a nigga, Pull out a billfold, put a price on a nigga   It's kinfolk, put a knife in a nigga from his car to his pocket then right in his liver   It was a big boy to put a slice in the middle, ? Killer Mike with the killer   Don't mess with the south, homie that's a dream, hallucinating or imagining   We so XXL with the gats I mean, something ready to blow in the magazine   You know that them southern cash is mean, front dents smile for me when I stash my cream   Pull up with the candy paint that'll match my green, Killer Pastor, they just ain't imagining      [Chorus]      [Pastor Troy]   Y'all know me as PT, well uh huh and all of that   Black on black with black tip, I can't help but represent   I content I wanna know who the fuck you take me for   Studio rappers without your boy's tape, drop my top and bust my ak   No more play in G-A, yeah that's a classic   Riding in the classic, totin me a pastor   Send 'em to the casket, send 'em to the morgue   Slap me a nigga cause I'm motherfucking bored   Chamillionaire, I kinda fond of my surroundings   Get my Desert Eagle and get to motherfucking pounding   Up and down the street, throwing heat out the driver seat   Riding to the beat, tell them niggaz adjust they feet      [Chorus]