Lookin’ real fly while in cahoots: the 10 best Dukes of Hazzard raps

Advance the flag of Dixie
Hurrah! Hurrah!
For Dixie’s land we take our stand,
And live or die for Dixie!

I wish I was in the land of cotton.


If that’s the case we might as well leave the lights on
I’m out my mind, just blew a thousand swisher sweets
In my black and orange charger, call it trick or treat
It ain’t nothin’ to a boss, my goons got goons
House stupid dumb big, my rooms got rooms

– Jeezy

Making their way, the only way they know how
That’s just a little bit more than the law will allow

charger ’68-9
Later in the show’s run, when it got too hard and/or expensive to continue procuring more Chargers, the producers started using more ‘jump footage’ from previous episodes

I was just too tired all the time. I read once about a big, manmade surfing wave at an indoor water park in Japan. The wave was engineered to never stop. It just kept crashing onto the beach. Exhaustion was this: a great powerful wave, cresting eternally and ceaselessly, ready at any time to pull you under.

Patrice O’Neal says that you know how attractive a white woman is by how long they’d look for her if she went missing. It’s not that Daisy’s the foxiest (this post gets no Lesbatronic Moment tag); it’s that she plays the hand she was dealt. The shorts/heels/flowy hair combo is a white girl classic, probably one of our trademarks along with saying “Aww” about cute things and having an innate fondness for the Doobie Brothers when they come on the car radio. They’d look for Daisy for at least a few months, I bet.

Catherine Bach, style godmother to Caucasian sexy ladies everywhere, is and swagger-jacker in her Finally I Left Adidas jacket–except I can’t get mad at her, as this picture was taken before the swagger had found me. And except mine is an Adidas one–Carolina blue, doggie. And except, I just remembered, I do not swagger and I do not have swagger and I cannot successfully pull off saying SWAG. SWAGSWAG. because of my librarian-ish appearance and carriage. So it’s not swagger I have–it’s just a combination of a) shyness that people mistake for aloofness plus b) I wear heels a lot so it kind of seems like swagger when you look at me from just the right angle.

diff’rent strokes has the biggie nod (“The What”) and the chappelle nod, but them Duke boys and their hijinks get some mentions in rap too.


I can give it to ya but whatcha gon do wit it
I can give it to ya but what cha gon dooooo
When I’m in Texas I’m bumpin Screw music
With Big Mike and Scarface and Luke loop
Me and lil’ Crook like Bo and Luke Duke.

“Whatcha Gonna Do,” Jayo Felony. Catchy catchy! Such a catchy one, with those uh-huhs in the intro. And that bounce. It’s probably hard to rep San Diego; I bet everyone makes fun of you. Especially if you tell people you’re sexy, too sexy, in your one hit song. Like innocence or sexiness, the moment you pronounce that you possess a certain quality you’ve just shown me that you lack it. Unless you’re Muhammad Ali, you’re an idiot if you announce your superiority to everyone in the room. in your hit song’s chorus. You can bring in Meth and DMX to feel a little harder and get some east coast interest, but everyone knows they only did it because Russell Simmons told ’em to. Def Jam. We know they didn’t really like Jayo for Jayo. It was an industry favor.

a song about good ol’ boys which is the theme song for a show where the main mode of transportation as you’re getting out of hot water has a Confederate flag painted on its goddamn roof and “Dixie” as its horn song. IT’S GOT “DIXIE” AS ITS HORN SONG.

Sheek Louch, “Run Up”:

No beef, no wreath nece’, it get real messy
Pull a rifle on you boys like Uncle Jesse
I’m Sheek baby girl, one third of the LOX
Put you in the mink and out of the fox

Mink or fox, you bring a dead animal skin anywhere near me, sir, and my naked body is permanently closed for business–windows boarded up, bank takeover, the whole deal. This is probably also the only time a man who brags about having the money of middle eastern shahs also brags about being just like an elderly bearded Kentucky man who lives below the poverty line. That’s his version of stripper/librarian, I guess.

Pullin tricks, looking slick at all times when I’m flipping
Bar sipping, car dipping, grand wood grain gripping
Still tippin’ on 4-4s, wrapped in four Vogues
Pimping 4 hoes and I’m packing 44s
Blowing on the endo, Game Cube Nintendo
Five percent tint so you can’t see up in my window
These n—-s don’t understand me, cuz I’m Boss Hogg on candy
Top down at Maxi’s wit a big glock nine handy
Pieced up creased up staying dressed to impress
Big boss belt buckle under my Mitchell and Ness

– Slim Thug, “Still Tippin.” I’m not one of these n—as but he’s right about that lack-of-understanding thing. He is a 6’6″ black man from Texas with rap hustles and some long connections to Screw and Mike Watts. And then there’s me–office job and stock rims. So embarrassing. I’ll probably never fully get him. Slimmy gets extra Dukes points for naming his side crew Boss Hogg Outlawz (one of whom is Killa Kyleon, who worked with Curren$y!), with the Outlawzzzzz’s site being immahogg.com. It appears to be user-run, sort of like ThisIs50 for the slabs & boppers* set. The down side to this is lots of of pharmaceuticals spam posted on message boards–antipsychotics, Boniva, and something called Inhibitol, which I believe I’ve had coursing through my bloodstream for years now.

* slang circa ’05

Word up, our niggas is strapped, ready for war on the ill block
Things just ain’t peace no more, fuck it
If you ain’t with me then forget me
Niggas try to stick me, retaliation, no hesitation, shifty
Creepin’ niggas in the dark, triggas with no heart
Rippin’ ass apart, I’ll be swimmin’ with the sharks now
Stay out my water or it’s manslaughter
Kid, you oughta start reachin’ for that nickle-plated auto-
Matic, my thoughts get sporadic, loaded raps
Bustin’ mad shots to ya attic
They say this hazard, this flows a hazard
Straight from Hazzard County with a bounty on his head, and it said
“Wanted Dead or Alive,” I swear by the whites of they eyes
To never take a dive I will survive

– Meth, “Sub Crazy”

Tribe, “Same ol thing”:
Round and opposition twisted like Super Dave
You be looking, Bub, just like Uncle Jesse
Don’t make the scene messy
‘Cause it’ll jump that’s word Aunt Betsy
Profound sentences to pure lyric dems
Some of my friends be like a people with stems

OutKast, “Wailin”:

I felt the pressure like sun shinin, while raining at the same time
I kept on rhymin, not complainin
Storm raining cats and dogs my catalog be the size of golf balls
Throw up your Daisy Dukes I’m Hazzard-ous to all you Boss Hoggs
And Roscoe P. Col’ people, who could boost my locomotive
But enough of that everyone can rap unless they…
I use my gift of gab to boast and brag in every rhyme I
compose won’t y’all get sick of that, cause I know I do when I hear those
Flows that ain’t hip-hop, you find that shit in the gift shop
But to each his own, my speech is gon’, keep that shit up outta my zone
Long as you happy then I’m happy
Even if you just hate my fuckin guts go ‘head and dap me
Cause I’m gon’ dap you anyway and then go home and pray for yo’ ass later
Cause we might need you in this war I’m wailin on you traitors
Like that…

The Duke boys were also from the fine state of Georgia and had a lot of adventures and drove probably faster than they should have.

Heat’ll make anything move
Even Tyson, can get laid down, with this tool
Just cause the name say Goodie, you take us for fools
out they rabbit ass mind, don’t give me mine, I go off like mines
blowin suckers to smithereens, we was never folks
If we fell out over this lil’ cream
Or let some soft legs come in between our dreams
We live like Kings, and die like fuckin men
I don’t care how rough you roll, we can’t be shut down
Ain’t no openin up shop, we already established
You lap doggin, we Boss Hoggin
Grown men, don’t beg for attention
Keep wishin, high heels clickin
Paper champions, leavin with they feet behind
Zap em for the pumpkin, at twelve

– Khujo, “Yall Scared.”

A few things:

Grown men don’t beg for attention.
Love Boss Hogg as a verb. Unrelated: I’m also pretty sure Boss Hogg was gay. So flossy.
Letting soft legs come between our dream. This makes us sound like powerful sex, making dudes quiver when we walk by. Have you seen me at Vons? That kind of thing never happens.

Daisy pic!

Tight outfits like the Spinners
What I mastered is worser than _Dukes of Hazzard_
Find out ask _Miami Vice_ about me, Miami twice about me
The Coconut Tree down in Cuba, red light action
Camera work by David Luger
E! light entertainment, I need the money edit JVC
Handheld, Geiger silver
Could shoot or meditate on the block
The motion picture’s clear, the girl is hot

Kool Keith

All red Chevrolet, 26’s ridin high
Dukes of Hazzard doors, in Compton we call ’em suicides
Suede roof, leather seats, woodgrain steerin wheel
Candy apple hardtop, Game logo on the grill
California license plate ridin through the A-T-L
Keep my tires bald, I never leave a paper trail
Nah I’m a keep it clean, ball when I hit the scene
Elbow out the window, show ’em how to gangsta lean
Put Cali on the map, westside on my back
Hometown on my face, forty five on my lap
Twenty in my earlobe, hundred on my neck piece
Just bought a Bentley nigga and I’m a “Throw some D’s on that bitch!”
Pull up at the rim shop and “Throw some D’s on that bitch!”
Might as well cut the top
Let the sunshine in and the bass jump out
Hit the block 15’s vibratin the whole fuckin house

– Game, “Throw Some D’s” remix

Trick Daddy, “SNS”

[Trick Daddy]
Call me Rosco P. Coltrane
And I come through in that seven tre thang (Uh-huh)
Play wit us, spray the damn thang
See down here that’s an e’eryday thang
It’s guns and greens on dub dukes
Cop deuces half price from the boosters
See thugs wasn’t big enough
You wanted beef wit the thugs, but the club wasn’t big enough
All the G’s to the V.I.P.
Hoes follow along right after me
It’s – SNS in this bitch
Matter fact, I be the best in this shit
Put me on your next remix
Now count the spins that you get (Uh-huh)
See shit get crazy dogg
I’m takin’ this shit way back to the eighties y’all
We’re packed in jumbo jets
Line it up, the boy bought to bring it back

” “

– Curren$y. No Dukes-referencing song (yet?). Yeah he’s super loyal to Chevy, but clearly he would not deny the tangerine American muscle of the Dodge Charger.


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