Lyrics Dippin In Da Lac - Big Tuck, Paul Wall

Dippin In Da Lac

Ay what’s up mayn, this your boy Big Tuck
Ad-Tuck-Hitler, Hurricane Tuck and Paul Wall
This what I want my dope boys to do
I know we got a lot of dope boys out there
Everybody know we got money down here
We gon put the new shit up, and we gon jump in a old school 'Lac
And we gon dip on these hoes, g’eah-g'eah
I swear, I’m the freshest nigga moving
GT roof down, cruisin' (cruisin')
Gucci loc’s on, peeping bitches choosing
Tipsy on the dance floor, grooving
Seeing niggas hating, cause I’m shining
Got money in my pockets, I don’t mind em (I'm rich nigga)
Yeah nigga, peep this watch
Peep this chain, my shine don’t stop
I’m dope man fresh
The J’s on point, heavy crease the Guess
The chain on the chest, hoes obsessed
They finally get to meet the Big Tuck in the flesh
She’s watching, I know that I got her
Three karat studs in the ear, she know I’m a rider
And it’s just like that
The Benz in the garage, I’m bout to jump in the 'Lac
Dipping in the Lac, with the do’s rose up
Ho-hoes froze up, cause the do’s rose up
Ho-ho-hopping out the Lac, and the chain froze up
Rose gold up, rose-rose gold up
Pull up to the club, bout twelve cars deep
All dripping candy paint, with some glassy ass feet
I keep the trunk waving, and that dro stay blazing
With the nine tucked tightly, at them haters misbehaving
I’m a hard hitter like Greg Blue, setting trends and squashing noise
Pulling up in some candy toys, strutting the parking lot with poise
You see them karats on my wrist, and all around my neck
With nothing less than flawless diamonds mayne, what you expect
I got a lot of charms, I got a lot of chains
I got a lot of grills, and nan one of em look the same
Swang and bang in my candy car, boppers wanna know who we are
Street veterans and mic wreckers, we certified young ghetto stars
Popping bottles that’s just for fun, popping trunk that’s in my blood
Candy paint might cause a flood, please don’t spill my cup of mud
You know we stay balling, cause we keep grinding for that bread
Swishahouse it’s Paul Wall, and I’m G-Boy fresh until I’m dead
I’m dope man fresh, dope man fresh
Chain on the chest stayin' dope man fresh
Dope man fresh, dope man fresh
Hopping out the Lac, staying dope man fresh — 2x
I’m a certified, wood gripper
I’m a old school, candy paint Lac flipper
Got the bang on, and the screens lit
Got the dro going, satellite kit
What you know, about the mink guts
And the motor, that’ll drag race a school bus
Just, got the paint job touched up
On the freeway, riding with them do’s up