Lyrics Track Wrecka (feat. Lil Flip) - Chamillionaire, Lil' Flip

Track Wrecka (feat. Lil Flip)

Yessir
(Yessir)
Come on
(Uh)
We back once again
Tag team, you ain’t dreaming
It’s Flip Gates and (Chamillitary Mayne)
Ha, ha, yeah man, this what the fans want
They want the hear a bread winner spit it
(let's get into man)
Track Wreckas
Hotter than black peppers
(let's go)
When I pull up in that Maybach with my pistol on my seatI got a wake up with
that R. I
And the grape Swisher Sweets
I skeet skeet then beep beep I drop em hog then I’m gone And since my slab a
brown whip
I call it Indiana Jones Get it?
A brown whip, ah fuck it y’all rappers too slow
I’m dirty dancing with the freaks in the new Vogue
Big licker, green swishers got the club stanky
A Bentley on Yankees but it’s fifty on my bank it
I let y’all borrow my swag ya outta thank me
I blow rooters like toobers you try to gank me
You can’t be serious, Houston ain’t finished
How was that when I made a half of meal on my teeth?
I got that Geena Green bread, that Martha Stewart cash
And when I’m at high rollers they bring my money and clear bags
The vet black since I visited the same color
We lethal weapons are real, man I’m Danny Glover
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Hotter than a black pepper, now that I am back nigga
Here lizard, lizard, lizard
I might pull my cash out make a bank teller pass out
Cause I get mo bank than an armor truck on it’s last rought
Hol' up, Flip goin get’cha Aston out I’m a pull out the Jag
That’s mo swag than a V.M.A.
end of the party band
I’m getting cash you ain’t with it I ain’t try’na talk
I don’t compute cause most of these rappers Microsoft
It isn’t safe just cause my safe looking just like a vault
Somebody rob Ford Nox (and it’s looking like I’m cost)
Turn up my four-fifteens, I’m swangin' like a swing
My Lincoln took a leak I guess is it too much supreme
It’s looking candy green, I think it’s gasoline
If it ain’t gas it’s lean, I think my slab a fiend
And I already put three slabs in rehab
Each Jag is overdosed to each class
My E-class, my S-class, my V-class
They all wanna be bad kids and be fast
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Check out my track record, check out my track wrecka
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Hotter than a black pepper, now that I am back nigga
Front, back, and side to side
Man I hate that my homeboy Pimp C died
And Bun B I got’cha back when it’s time to ride
They wanna cut my wings because I’m so fly
Ha, ha
The paint is wined out, ya fo’s is glasshouse
Wineberry overload it’s Amy wined out
Y’all at the center the Roster and I doubt
That this rocket in my pocket don’t make it while trying out
Like POW
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Check out my track record, check out my track record
Check out my track record, they say I’m a track wrecka
Hotter than a black pepper, now that I am back nigga