| Big terrible Texas, where legends are born
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| Lil Keke the don, original Screwed Up Click
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| This dedicated to DJ Screw, Fat Pat, Big Mellow, Big Steve
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| Bun…
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| Draped up and dripped out, know what I’m talking bout (x4)
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| Well it’s big Bun B now, baby, Mr. Woodgrain
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| With diamonds up against them balling through your hood mayn
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| And I’m smoking on some good mayn, the color purple
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| Not the movie, but the kind that have you going in a circle
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| Chrome, looking more classy than the Transco Tower
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| Car drippin' candy paint like it just came out the shower
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| Like 'Face I got the money, the power and the finesse
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| To roll around one deep with hundred-thousand round my neck
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| I’m looking real shiny; |
| you can see me from a mile away
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| Thought you was doing it, until I came and took your smile away
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| Pull up on your side in the turning lane
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| Pop my trunk, break you off, chunk a deuce
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| And I’m Cadillac turning mayn (I'm gone)
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| Little swang to the left, big swang to the right
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| My plates scraping and I’m sliding the pipe, it’s super tight
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| So don’t try to knock us baby, don’t try to hate
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| That’s how we do it in that Lone star state; |
| get it straight
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| (We be…)
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| Draped up and dripped out, know what I’m talking bout (x4)]
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| Now if you never been to Texas, there’s a picture to paint
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| Cause we doing it real big, in case you thinking we ain’t
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| It’s lots of money on these streets, being spent and being made
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| All it take is one look to see these boys getting paid
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| They living laid in big houses, with pools in the backyard
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| Certified gangsters so you never see us act fraud
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| With iced out watches, bracelets, chains
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| Pieces, teeth, mayn we throwed in the game
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| We got screens in that headrest, visors in the ceiling
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| On chrome 83's and fours and Vogue peeling
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| With bumpers and belts across the back of my trunk
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| Push a button, and my car is waiving bye to you punk
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| We from the land of sippin' on syrup and (banging the Screw)
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| We slab swangin' comin down and through, I thought you knew
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| Back in the days, all they ever did was doubt us
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| Now the South is in the house, and they can’t do nothing about us
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| (We be…)
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| Draped up and dripped out, know what I’m talking bout (x4)]
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| One time for my trill niggas reppin the block
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| The real soldiers on the frontline is keeping it cocked
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| They hold it down for they hood, throw it up, let 'em see it
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| So they can know how you G it, if they hating, so be it
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| We ain’t playing where I’m staying cause it’s way too real
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| No matter the situation, we gotta keep it trill
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| Got the steel on my side when I ride cause I’m ready
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| I got 20/10 vision and my trigger finger steady
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| I’m an Underground King homeboy, and not a simp
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| And I gots to represent 'til they decide to free the Pimp
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| I’m down for my click, just like I’m down for my block
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| And I’m a stand up for my partner 'til they let him off of lock
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| So go on, body rock, Southside or lean back
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| Two-step with your boy if you about your greenbacks
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| This here is a Texas toast so raise your glass
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| Because the whole dirty South fittin' to show they naked ass
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| (We be…)
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| Draped up and dripped out, know what I’m talking bout (x4)] |