| Hump, where you at baby
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| It’s that Boss Hogg huh
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| We got something to show y’all though
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| Chop em up
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| Get up all the ballas, make your way to the front
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| 84's on blaze, and have some bang in your trunk
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| Sip syrup or blazing skunk, overdose if you can
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| I ain’t saying I’m the man, but I’m your host with the plan
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| Instead of parlaying, I know these niggas feel what I’m saying
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| Cause all G’s from Houston Texas, now you know where I’m staying
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| Crawling low tip-toeing, in a five double O
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| B-E-N-Z, on dash reclined watching TV
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| Decided what game Playstation, and a Sega cd
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| Later on we hold and jumping, to the pretty Bentley
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| Did I mention in the steering wheel’s, a color TV
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| Tinted up blowing smoke, that’s the life of a G
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| Houston we have a problem, we ball too much
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| Threw some blades on my ride, and now we crawl too much
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| Threw some paint on the car, and now we drip too much
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| Bought a gallon of drank, and now we sip too much
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| Flip too much, wood grain we grip too much
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| You might as well, say that H.S.E. |
| pimp too much
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| Everybody wearing diamonds, so I wear baguettes
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| Everybody riding Benz, so I fly in a jet
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| I got a palace in Dallas, I got a train in Spain
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| Airplanes with candy wings, TV screens and thangs
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| Girls dancing in my mansion, playas still party too
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| I got ice in my mouth, but my name ain’t Cube
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| Acting bad in the slab, filling up at Texaco
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| Chop chop twist twist, on my way to Mexico
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| Videos and commercials, radio and rehearsals
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| In hover crafts I love to laugh, my style is so universal
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| Chop chop twist twist, rocks is on my wrist
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| I’m a billion dolla balla, with a million dolla kiss
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| Twist twist chop chop, watch the car hop
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| I represent my hood, and my worldwide block
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| Candy jet flying wet, elevator sky screamer
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| Late night Casanova, in a Rover or the Beamer
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| Slanging in the intersection, squat out with a smile
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| On the Nextel phone, my screens spin like crystal balls
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| You ain’t know, tell these niggas get me lean way
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| And if the FED’s is watching, we leaving trails on the freeway
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| Ain’t no instant replay, man we wetting niggas up
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| It’s so hard to lose my touch, but I’m betting niggas up
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| Stacking paper cutting papers, never known to catch vapors
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| Guard the states with city exits, one hundred feet skyscrapers
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| Chop chop twist twist, I got rocks on my wrist
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| Scratching haters off my list, and blow a million dolla kiss
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| H-Town H-Town bitch, city of dreams
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| And everything in H-Town, ain’t always what it seems
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| You might get jacked, for your blades and swangas
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| From MLK to the Tre, we keeping one in the chamber
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| H-Town H-Town bitch, city of dreams
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| Where we stay creased up and pieced up, top flighted codeine
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| Platinum bezeltine gleam, thugs wishing on a star
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| Stretched land Lex pop a Zanek, plus my stretches for tomorrow
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| Chop chop twist twist, forty Glock up in my wrist
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| Or my desert eagle resident evil, for these niggas that’s on my list
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| You got me pissed nigga, see you’s a bitch nigga
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| And at your concert you in dirt, and we won’t miss nigga
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| I guess you jealous of the Benzo, on Lorenzo’s
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| And your jacks and fools, keep bringing me the ends so
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| The Ghetto Twinz show, got dropped up on your head
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| Now meet my little friend, my Mack 10 with a infrared
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| I heard you hid your cars, locked your burglar bars
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| Don’t fuck with the E and Hump chump, cause we some murder stars
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| This calls for war why, for they kick in your belly
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| Chop chop with my machete, twist your neck cause we deadly
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| Jiggidy chop chop
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| Jiggidy twist twist
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| Million dolla ballas
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| Million dolla kiss — 2x |