Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Aint Trippin No Mo, artist - E.S.G.. Date of issue: 15.04.2002
Song language: English
We Aint Trippin No Mo |
| Too many haters, still try to take me off of my game |
| See a young playa gripping wood |
| Looking good hold up, man we off the chain |
| See us coming down, and we’re holding |
| It’s the Z-Ro, Slim Thug and E.S.G |
| We don’t give a damn about none of these hoes |
| We all about our do', we ain’t tripping no mo' |
| Armed and dangerous, wanna spit them flows |
| Swang with us, if you wanna sit low |
| The game of life be shife, better think twice |
| Aren’t they nice, get killed hoe |
| For real though, kick your ass with a steel toe |
| What can I say, you niggas gay you need a deal though |
| Work my wheels so, twenty three minutes from your town |
| Udaville hoe, 23 inches from the ground |
| Hold up now look around, playboy you don’t want no drama |
| Off the chain and untamed, orangatangs out the jungle |
| Make the loudest nigga mumble, baller blockers can’t stop this |
| Wanna throw me out the game, like my name Rasheed Wallace |
| Hold up, blow the whistle that’s a tech |
| We got home court advantage, this year we bout to wreck |
| Hit up nigga sets, snap they neck |
| Take to the chest, trying to fuck with the best |
| Invisible set, baguettes, Rolex when I flex in the Lex with the big S-S |
| Now who’s next, you gon understand it |
| Back in the tour van, with Jennifer Lopez panties in my hand ha |
| Z-Ro the Mo City Don, bigger my bricks and profits |
| It’s evident that I’m a President to the game, you can’t baller block it |
| You can’t block my ball, when I get a flick a screen gon fall |
| Give me fo' corners, and I punish em all |
| Never gon fall off, when I haul off in the L dog |
| My block my bread and butter, keeping my pockets nice and thick |
| Whether be solid or whether be soft, the game ain’t never been known to quit |
| We went from riches to rags, rags to riches, while maintaining |
| Composure rock and witness these fellas, as they was switching |
| Investing in plenty bars and stocks, still got money coming out the block |
| I scheme to plot to the cream of the crop, fuck a bitch we gon leave a bald spot |
| They trying to take me off my game, wanna see me not having thangs |
| Mo City Texas Ridegmont mayn, killa codeine and mary jane |
| Over the plate it’s time to bat, it’s out of the park I told you that |
| Lucky Al Gore couldn’t hold it back, now I gotta calm down with a doja sack |
| Z-Ro, Slim Thug and E.S.G., we in it to win |
| Mechanical gorgeous everytime our records spin, Mr. Hater |
| I feel like in real life, they thinking I’m Santa Clause |
| I hide from mo' hoes and mo' foes, than I hide from the laws |
| They in my face with no pause, steady trying to make a G fall |
| Like 2Pac fuck all y’all, cause I need my cash tall |
| Trying to hate on mine you outta line, I shine because I grind |
| I keep that money up on my mind, for the umpteenth time |
| When I write a rhyme I rhyme real, and getting green is what I feel |
| A five figga nigga that want a mill, before my record deal |
| Still trying to get it, I hustle and can’t quit it |
| My target in range, is up to me to aim and hit it |
| Boy forget it, if you think I’m falling off of my game |
| You off the chain, you must of fell and lost your brain |
| I maintain and look good, and grip wood through my hood |
| Fuck a hoe I’m bout my do', let’s keep it understood |
| While these haters falling off, I’ma be falling in |
| Big falling in the Benz, solo fuck friends cause uh |