[Chorus]
Drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
[Verse One: JT]
Yo, I hit the party in my t-shirt and tennis shoes
They all watchin in they Hot Boys and church suits
Actin tough in the club ain't gon' get you home
Gettin drunk off of Patron just gon' get you domed
Still steppin on my shoes, boy this nigga happy
This nigga thank he Lil' Jon and his partner Scrappy
Goin dumb with his bitch so he don't like me
This ain't the South boy, we ain't crunk we go hyphy
You gotta know the rules, player let it go
You get to trippin my nigga you gotta hit the do'
Rollin up this eight-nine gram I'm tryin to make a plan
Tuggin on yo' main bitch hand, tryin to make a friend
This time for escapade only make the tec a-spray
I'm in the parkin lot, standin by the Escalade
You got a problem we ain't fightin like a man
One-on-one with the Fig', get yo' face in the sand, nigga
[Chorus]
[Hook: JT]
Nigga you a bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
Bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
[Verse Two: JT]
Yo, Fig' never play with them guns, no you hear me
Fig' ain't shot nuttin up but kill spirits
Fig' ain't the one to be, scared of the losses
One-on-one fightin for stripes with right crosses
Uppercuts and heatbutts to get a head rush
Bitch niggaz rather kick back, and let they lead bust
