(feat. Ludacris)    [Intro: Eightball]  He he he, yeeah    [Verse 1: Eightball]  What kind of nigga always run his mouth like a hoe  Like his jaw got a battery, this nigga always know  Who got robbed, got shot, who got put on lock  Nobody invited you and still you got up in the spot  Me, I'm not a witness, keep my distance, mind my business  You, somebody talk, you in they mouth like a dentist  We keep it gangsta, mommas love it cause they know it's real  Like UGK, "we keeps it real" mobbin' through the field  Big Ball, Fatboy, unload heat when my brain spill  You for it, images without no coke connect pills  We keep it crunk and poppin' real niggaz know the deal  We Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill  You try to stop it, get yo' shit broke up in twenty pieces  We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit secret features  Game preachers move yo' pimpin' for you mamasitas  We players on the field, y'all niggaz in them bleachers    [Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)]  You talkin' down behind my back (uh) you done shot off nigga  Fifty, four or twenty sack, you done shot off nigga  If you fly and got a gun (uh) when the drama come, you run (uh)  You know what you just done, you done shot off nigga    [Verse 2: MJG]  Man, come on now, you done shot off just like Mike Davis lost a knockoff  Or his tight-ass shirt when the button pop off  You standin' it's snowin' you got yo' shoes and socks on  Who holds the key? No fucking bout it, I broke the lock off  I grew the top off, took the comma, period, dot off  And ran on wit it and broke you a whole lot off  I'm gettin' hot and startin' to boil, don't turn the pot off  You just affected wit it, pimpin' yo, get yo' rocks off  Release some pressure, stop all that cryin' and wipe ya snot off  Excuses you be usin' for losin' it's cheap as hot sauce  Earn yo' position, stop hatin' beacuse you not boss  M-J-G, pimp tight, I'm movin' yo' spot off  And I don't reach, stoppin' yo' plans, fucking yo' plot off  I go hard and I don't sheave and I'm not off  And livin' on the edge rebellin' I'm never dropped off  Like Aaron Hall, "Don't Be Afraid" bitch, call the cops off    [Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)]    [Verse 3: Ludacris]  Now you can either check yo' ego at the do' (door) or let the drama unfold  And check my Rap Sheet, BITCH, I'm almost ten million sold  I'm only rappin' cause I want to, I got enough plaques  Needless to say, my favorite rappers told me to get on this track  And so I DID it, quickly wrote my sixteen down and SPIT it  By the end of the verse you'll say, "once again, Ludacris SHIT it"  Then I'll wipe this wit yo' face and put yo' pride in the trash  My whole career is like my video, I'm showin' my ass  I keeps it, "gangsta, gangsta!" shooters and shanksters  Until you shot off motherfuckers, I'm a "thank ya, thank ya!"  Runnin' yo' mouth behind my back until you run out of time  But at least yo' talkin' let's me know some millions stay on yo' mind  It ain't nothin' wrong wit that  Tell em grabbin' the thang and then I put it to yo' brain  And change everything you ever hope fo' (for) wit the .44  You'll be fallin' back  And Yacht - is what I'm drinkin' steady thinkin' bout these pinks chasin'  I'm bout to bring home the bacon    [Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 4X)]