VERSE I
I throw 'em the bird and feed 'em the smoke
erase you fake phonies who think it’s a joke
you really ain’t fly or even that dope
you lackin' the basics you need to be pro
you slow, got no chance and it shows
I spit, you split, and proceed to be ghost
schemes so cold they freezin' my throat
breathe a flow, we keepin' it dope
hope that you know, missin’ out if you don’t
year of the team, coming up like some smoke
Intelligent South and we runnin' the show
Tex at its best, ain’t no reason to joke
9 on my side, cause you demons to choke
jump if you want, hope you ready to go
don’t test the greats, no regular joes
you falling back, but keepin' up is the goal
yeah, in God I trust, so hush and go and get woke
save up your talk 'cause it powered my soul
gave him control and it’s paving the road
nothing, but greatness, the way I was shown
recording my vox and stories are told
pieces of me and the way I was grown
reppin' the south in the way that I talk

CHORUS
life, death - comin' after you
right, left - it's all your attitude
ice cold breath and stress
this is a mess - this is a mess

VERSE II
Glock in my hand, eyes on the target
prayin' for prey because I am starvin'
dearly departed, beggin' our pardon
Yartists killin' 'em softly
The Intelligent South, shoes on our tongue
runnin' our mouth, live in the booth
accused of verbal abuse, there’s proof
put behind bars for screamin' the Truth
we know you're confused
both of us smile in your face
kindness don't equal weakness
ain't seein' this as a race
I can tell you a rookie
cause ain't got nothin' to say, simple and plain
beggin' for cookies
you stay baked, but ya never get paid, ayy
like Bill & Ted, we are excellent
totes my goats, the flow's bogus man
nonsense, we not into it
sick of ignorance, so we built a brand
two grown men, focused
holdin' some hope in both our hands
composin' the dopest opuses
we are the local grid's coldest vocalists
get one thing clear
we're inked up writers
branded 'round here
we are what you call lifers
brains on our skin
southern cerebral fighters
pen to pen, mic to mic combat
cuttin' teeth in these cyphers, snipers

CHORUS

VERSE III
look, we been around
ain't gotta sell you our worth
see this grey in our beards
we have put in the work
4 feet underground
all hands in the dirt
intentions are clear
we're comin' in first - ever since birth
been on and off, attracted to Earth
every bit of respect, these animals earned
the shows, beers, tours, and tears
the juxtaposition of joy and fear

no need to impress, homie
yeah, we know where our hearts is
stained as an artist
keepin' it real that’s regardless
livin' it full 'til we dearly departed
perfect ain’t the point of this the noise
it's been the journey since the jump of this thing
give me a mic and my fam and you know
that we walk in this place and we light it a blaze
simple and plain, you looking at greats
as soon as we start up this banter on the stage
the dawn of an age - yartists the name
shout from the south - thanks, Justin and James

CHORUS