Lyrics Third Coast Born Prt. 2 - C-Note

Third Coast Born Prt. 2

Third Coast nigga, Third Coast Born
Part two nigga, what it do
Third Coast born, but that don’t mean we third place — 3x
This is how we ride, reside on Southside
Third Coast Born, but that don’t mean we third place
H-Town Southside, putting diamonds in they face
Raise hell from the cell, now the King is back
With enough paper stacks, to match Mattress Matt
And they know me in the hood, and through out the city
Only nigga independent, stacking do' like Diddy
In a Lamborghino, sitting low I’m pretty
I’ll make your lil' Camaro, look real silly
Ought to be against the law, the way I’m shitting on boys
Know we Third Coast for life, dropping bricks on boys
So holla at me mayn, cause we got the game sold
Only H-Town rapper, that really roll 4's
That really roll fo’s, that really pimp hoes
Botany Boys/Screwed Up Click, yeah we in the game thoed
I bet that advance, you got was weak
It’s C-Note I run the streets, a million dollars a week what
They looking at me, I’m looking at ya
Now you all lied out, on the stretcher
They come to wet ya, they come to get ya
Don’t be messing, with the Southside tester
I’m a known wrecker, you know my music sell
Even clubs bump my shit, out in ATL
Cause I got clientele, I stay on the go
Real girls, could you get down on the flo'
And drop it like whoa, for the Third Coast
Steady cooking up them chickens, watching birds toast
You know we heard most, we make 'em get ghost
Niggas try to shut me down, but they ain’t get close
Want me to lay in red, or either end up dead
Weak niggas, even put a price on my head
But I be busting lead, I got them niggas scared
I be hustling, till they free Smud and free Dez
I’m from the Third Coast, niggas better get it right
I shine bright, make 'em blind man gaining sight
I’m in it for the fight, I gotta keep it hype
I’m in a number one game, where you’ll lose your life
You ain’t seen my type, cause I’m above average
Piece and chain pinky ring, got a million karats
I’m a young savage, strictly about that cabbage
You can try to run up, I let you niggas have it
Hey boy, you ain’t run you know what it do
I shut down MLK, when I’m coming through
See me coming true, niggas is running too
And I ain’t even pull my strap out, on them fools
This is for Texas, Mississippi, Alabama
Florida, Tennessee, them folks out in Louisiana
I spit that country grammar, you know who I am’a
I hold it down for my peeps, still in the slammer