Released: February 25, 2003

Featuring: Birdman El Dorado U.P.-T.I.G.H.T. Six2

Songwriter: ​The D.O.C. Birdman

Producer: Jazze Pha Dr. Dre

[Intro: The D.O.C.]
Still smokin'
Chronic and indo
(He's totally throwed off)
Outspoken
Got bodies in the Pacific and they end up soakin' (indeed)
Over my papers nigga
Duct tape with no motion (believe that)
'Cause it took to get these hoes open (uha)

[Verse 1: The D.O.C.]
Blazin'
Front page slow roast
West side home of the jackers
'Cause some of these niggas is bad actors (not that)
They're fit to get you caught up in the raptures
But I just want the green like the masters
I'm watchin' how they do it ass backwards
My niggas over here collect platinum
You know my name nigga D.O.C. used to ride with the notorious D.R.E
It's overdrive for the y2k
Doc gave you the millennium look at how they feelin' us
I keep it rangin' from the bangin' to the sangin' on these fools

[Six2]
Now I'm payin' deuce 'cause that's play of the rules
You best to keep your ass on the ride
'Cause on the south side g's contemplate genocide
Termination's the number 1 component on that ass
Sho' make you wanna blast fool don't it

[Hook: Six2]
The south is on fire, 'cause I see smoke
Don't nobody panic ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn
It's on fire, nigga I see smoke
Don't nobody panic, ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn

[Verse 2: El Dorado]
Hit the block like Niño with Tony
Why you tryna hold me homie, I hit hard like the FED
Keys to the city I'm married to the streets
Who am I?, I OG as in gorilla comin' down milla
This fort murder ever hearda of a killa
You the realest I'm a whole lot realer
Sweat Cortez like a yoyay dealer
I used to hide them things in skittles
8-1-7 Mr. murder
Get you heard by agent J. Bergis
Excursions s of burbses
I know you can tell my click ain't hurted
You heard sippin' surd
The different aroma is kinda on your urge

[Hook: Six2]
The south is on fire, 'cause I see smoke
Don't nobody panic ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn
It's on fire, nigga I see smoke
Don't nobody panic, ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn

[Verse 3: U.P.-T.I.G.H.T. ]
They nationally televise me on america's most wanted
The man with the most input but no cash to flaunt it
Broke down battered and bruised distributed in target
Sluts are mine just fine as I redefine your death warrant
Street talk, we walk, keep y'all, sleepwalkin', seen it all
The combination of end all killer I mean it raw
Swole after the goal
After hit that platinum changed my name
And my spray y'all niggas down I'm always blastin'
I'm corrugated malefactor no for score crackin'
Actually deceased with its exist I drive away laughin'
In the street covered in piss
I hear you chokin' and gaggin'
Lyrics vibrate your chest infamous for body baggin'
It's curtains when I'm flirtin' in fingerin' a trigger
The worst pain on a mankind I bring it to a nigga
Wit' an attitude throwin' out my CD like bare foot
Backed up against the wall lyrical homicide natural

[Hook: Six2]
The south is on fire, 'cause I see smoke
Don't nobody panic ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn
It's on fire, nigga I see smoke
Don't nobody panic, ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn

[Outro]
What it feel like nigga
The Stallone corleone, cash money number 1 stones
You know we do it bit down there
You know we got full nuts nigga
What's up Doc, I'm here to do this for ya homie
And we stay on fire nigga
We'll burn the world naw
It's all fucked up naw and it's gravin'
'Cause we didn't got money and power, I'll holla later

[Hook: Six2]
The south is on fire, 'cause I see smoke
Don't nobody panic ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn
It's on fire, nigga I see smoke
Don't nobody panic, ain't no one get choked
Whoever goes next I'm not really concerned
'Cause the south is on fire let that motherfucker burn

​The D.O.C.

Tracy Lynn Curry (born June 10, 1968), known by his stage name The D.O.C., is a rapper hailing from Dallas, Texas. The D.O.C. is known for his lyrical style notable for compounding, as well as possessing a solid tenor pre-accident.

He started his career as a member of the hip-hop group Fila Fresh Crew, as well as becoming one of the creative forces behind the seminal gangsta rap group N.W.A., where he co-wrote many of their releases.

In November 1989, months after the release of his solo debut album “No One Can Do It Better,” The D.O.C. suffered from a car accident that crushed his larynx, altering his voice from a well-bodied tenor to a rattling raspy voice reminiscent of a heavy smoker’s.