[Big Boi]
  February 1st, 1975 it happened
  Was born in West Savannah way before I started rappin
  My mamma had a nigga at the age of fifteen
  My daddy was sellin that sack, now he's gots responsibilities
  Stayed at me granny's while me mammy was at work
  and she couldn't watch my every move so shit I started servin
  Around Frazier Home, down in the West Side projects
  Changin over foodstamps, and hittin a lick was next see
  I'm just a playa like that, my jeans was sharply creased
  I got a fresh white t-shirt and my cap is slightly pointed East
  So flyin, or floatin, a Brougham is what I'm sportin
  Sade is in my tape deck, I'm movin in slow motion boi
  So meet me deep in the streets that's where I learned the capers
  Us lickin blunts, lickin leaves, rollin reefer papers
  I'm slightly slouched, in the seats off in my bucket
  But the niggaz around the Ave. and the hoes, they love me
  They wanna be me and my family too
  Because the money that I make be puttin cable off in every room
  So follow the beans, follow my lead through the nooks and crannies
  It's everyday life off in my hood so come and holla at me
  But go 'head on, with that foolishness bitch
  Let me get lovely with my swerve because I'm true to this shit
  And if you comin with eight dollars, you shit out of luck
  Because the West Side ain't takin no shorts on the dime
  So fire it up
    [Chorus:]
    Now now now nine in my hand, ounce in my crotch
  Diggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!
  (like that now, like this, and it don't quit, and it don't stop)
  Nine in my hand, oune in my crotch
  Diggin the scene with a gangsta slouch, mmmmhmmmm!
  (and it don't stop, and it don't quit, it's like that and ah)
    See, niggaz in the South wear gold teeth and gold chains
  Been doin it for years, so these niggaz ain't gone change
  They comin around the ghetto so you might call em soul
  Been wearin furry Kangol's, so that shit is old
  You might slang a rock or two just to pay the rent
  Five dollars for a table dance so now your money's spent
  You listen to that booty shake music in your trunk
  as long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump
  I'm down to stick a hoe if she got a G-strang
  Cause the niggaz in the Pointe ain't changed, main
  You might call us country, but we's only Southern
  And I don't give a fuck, P-Funk spot to spark another
    [Chorus w/ variations (repeat to end)]