Artist: Big K.R.I.T. f/ Bun B, Ludacris
Album:  Return of 4Eva
Song:   Country Shit (Remix)
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com

[Intro: Ludacris]
Yeah...
I've been waitin to tell 'em about this country shit
I'ma learn ya! You ready? LUDA!

[Ludacris]
Lemme tell you 'bout these old school Chevys, Cadillac SS, Impalas (Whoo!)
If you smokin then we got mo' sacks than Troy Polamalu
Yo' partners want some quarters, my partners want some keys
In Atlanta we get that paper, can you haters say CHEEEEESE?
Ten thousand watt amps (amps), six 15-inch kickers (kickers)
My truck bumpin like an injected ass shots, like a stripper
No insurance on these whips, tags all outdated
I might not be shit to +YOU+, but my momma thinks I made it
We gon' ball 'til we fall, or this Conjure get us wasted
And I never drink that WHITE, all my women think I'm racist
On that brown with a twist, tell these hoes to reminisce
That my name is Ludacris and I'm like, "BEEEEYITCH~!!"

[Chorus: Big K.R.I.T.]
Lemme tell you 'bout this super fly, dirty dirty
Third coast muddy waters, shawty pop that pussy if you wanna
Lemme tell you 'bout this ol' school, pourin lean
Candied yams and collard greens, +Pocket Full of Stones+, ridin clean
Lemme tell you 'bout this country shit, country-country shit, country-country shit
Lemme tell you 'bout this country shit, country-country shit, country-country shit
Lemme tell you 'bout this country shit, country-country shit, country-country shit
Lemme tell you 'bout this country shit, country-country shit, country-country shit

[Big K.R.I.T.]
I told 'em, "Aw man, hold up!", country is what country does
M-I-crooked letter, hoe, who you know do it better fo'?
Pull up, hop out - clean, in my old-school time ma-chine
Keep a parachute for this altitude
'Cause when you riding this high, make it hard to breathe
Mayday, holl'n out payday, +Knockin' Pictures Off the Wall+ when I creep
Pros get wet as fuck when I speak, southern drawl it's just the way it be
Heavy like sumo, numero uno, pourin up brown, she sippin on Nuvo
Pimpin so cold, never trick on a hoe
Outer space with the flow, like I'm livin on Pluto, y'know
Biiitch~! I'm UGK influenced
{SLOW IT DOWN} Chop-Chop and Screw it, for the folk in Texas
that forever reckon with the styrofoam cup and the purple fluid
Return of 4eva, I thought you knew it
Country shit, that's all I see
That's all I know, that's all I feel, that's all I am, that's all I'll be - country

[Chorus]

[Bun B]
Candy-candy painted, 'Lac Biarritz (ritz) 
Sitin on twenty-fo's, vogues (vogues)
Pull up on my scene and I mack ya bitch (bitch)
It ain't hard to tell, I suppose she chose
To send over the clothes (clothes), Rolex and shoes
This Charlie Sheen pimpin too big to lose (lose)
Roll with trues and keep girls in twos
Boy, you musta heard wrong, well you been confused
See, I'm the big brother of Sweet James (James)
I know all about these street games
But the trick gon' pay (pay), the chick gon' say (say)
So she cain't lie about what she, brang
I'm certified like U.S.D.A.
Representin Texas, straight up out the PA
Graduated the School of Hard Knocks with a B.A.
Right under the nose of the Vice and the D.A.
Anything we say, take it as law, nigga
When I'm in the booth, no rubber, I'm raw, nigga (raw, nigga)
Talk down, get busted in yo' jaw, nigga
Like I'm your pa. go run tell yo' ma, nigga (ma, nigga)
No flaw nigga, one hundred percent
Old school, no glass house, I'm under the tint (tint)
Ask anybody here who runnin this shit
K.R.I.T. and Big Bun in this bitch

[Chorus]