(This is KalaniOnDaBeat) That's the, that's the, that's the, that's the That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia That's the night that they hung an innocent man Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands I'm the outlaw, baby, trust two people and my pistol If you askin' 'bout some drama, I know nothin' I ain't snitchin' Use my pen as a missile, do a track like it's Bristol Checkered wrap, gold chain, platinum truck, record crystal Got the hustle when I flow, I'm embodyin' the Memphis Beale Street in the '50s, on some B.B. King and Elvis Everybody hatin' now 'cause the past is my apprentice I ain't with all that division spillin' out the television Everybody down south hoppin' in about the business We don't do not politickin' when it comes to our complexion We ain't, we ain't never scared, tell a hater (Yeah, ho) Pullin' up like Billy Ray with the shades down low Chandelier glisten in my backwoods chateau Lights out for some people but we generate the glow That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia That's the night that they hung an innocent man Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands I ain't nothin' but a hound dog, motherfucker They'll never cut my sound off, motherfucker Chewin' up the competition 'cause they all some Hubba Bubba We makin' hip-hop babies, give the microphone a rubber Yeah, the singles made me single, even back when I was younger Had the Caddy jam-packed with the college girls in Knoxville Yeah, keys to the cut, locksmith motherfucker Still leave the car runnin' at the Exxon, no trouble Yeah, it's lonely at the top, get respected at the bottom Some people write songs, give me chisels for the column So dope you know I gotta keep my own lines dotted Illuminati try to get you if you truth tell partner That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia That's the night that they hung an innocent man Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands Hillbilly, hillbilly, hell yeah, I'm for real with it No one put it on the mic 'cause I'm a killer, still killin' Psycho with the weird lyrics, sittin' in your rear mirror Look back and they crash because they scared to see a real winner Ayy, blue collar, blue suede, rollin' deep, my circle lookin' like Cascade Southern accent accidentally serenade your bae I got barbeque shorties thicker than the Everglades Ayy, neon in my veins y'all, murder tracks, no John Walsh I could sneeze on beats and sling you rappers like a ragdoll Damn I need a rag y'all, I am what they can't solve Got power in the game now watch me cut these hater's lights off That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia That's the night that they hung an innocent man Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands