Tim Daddy was a gangster rapper

From the mean streets of Atlanta Georgia

Sittin' on his couch one day watchin' BET Network

When suddenly his TV set went on the blink

And he ended up watching Bill dance championship fishing

His life changed

And this is that young man's story

He left the inner city and moved to the hill

Traded in his crack pipe on a moonshine still

His gang bandanna sure looked bad

But it's the only color that the bait store had

No more Tupac Shaqure or biggie small

Now it's cow manure on his overalls

Surrounded by fiddles and a lot of George Jones

Goodbye puffy combs

Hillbilly homeboy

Your posse wants to know what's up

You done dissed the Sistas in the west coast crew

For some Bubbas with a spit cup

You got a sad little crib in the Hillbilly hood

There ain't no booty calls back in the woods

Hillbilly homeboy

When ya gonna come back home

He's got curb feelers on his 4 wheel drive

His comb liquor tastes like Colt 45

We hear you started hanging with some Hillbilly hos

Throwin' engine block parties for a bunch of Jethros

It's hard to pump up the Jam to Allison Krauss

When there ain't no electricity in da house

You can't bust a move to some crooked sounds

Goodbye Bobby Bown

Hillbilly homeboy

Your posse wonderin' where you at

We hear you're dressin' like ED from Hooterville

And homey what up with that

Your grandmother misses you and so do we

We're thinkin' damn you must be tripping Jim

Hillbilly homeboy

When ya gonna come back home

It ain't easy being a fish out of water is it G

We'll help you load up the old low rider

And head on back to the crib

Hey homie we said hey

Now comes here

Peace out