Lyrics Commin' Down - Mistah F.A.B., Slim Thug, Paul Wall

Commin' Down

Dig these blues homie
Damn right I’m on 22's homie
The bass hitting so hard 11 times a week I gotta replace the fuse homie
It’s a jungle inside my ride
Alligator skin is like everywhere
Me allergic to regular weed
So if it ain’t kush homie don’t put it in the air
Yeah I’m riding round and I’m getting it
Baby ain’t got no time to be hitting it
And you know the limousine tint mean
Mind yo mother fucking business
That candy paint so black look like a licorice stick
He outside of a Bentley in his house shoes
What type of nigga is this
The type that will put swangas on a
Caravan yes I am that man
With my name on the grill
And ma name on all the swangas
Too straight like that man
My arms strong as a motherfucker
From lifting lambo doors
Homie you know you balling when you start buying cars to match yo clothes
Got a stash box for that good grass
Got a stash box for that work too
Got my styrofoam filled to the brim my nigga
If you make me spill it ima hurt you
Screwed up click until I can’t say it no more
And I know the DJ gon play this until he can’t play it no more
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all my toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all ma toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
Ay let me ride!
Still riding down the block can’t speed through
Going two miles per hour making sure they see you
Trued up and I’m louied up that screw stuff in my new cup
My top down and my music loud
And I only listen to Too $hort, Pimp C and Bun B
Cause them all of my OGs
Ball so hard this shit crazy
You can call me Kobe
Pimp so hard your bitch pay me
She must have thought that I was Goldie
I’m skating on ice like a goalie
And I when I’m coming down I’m touching the whole street
I’m coming down like a sales price on them 4's
Lights on, trunk open, subs all 0's
Searching for that dough, eyes open for that paper
Candy apple over silver holding like a staker
Vogue tires only anything else is blasphemy
Breaking boys off add em to my list of casualties
Vape and wax slabs in the slab with that Mistah F.A.B
Paul Wall baby, paint dripping like a dab
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all ma toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all ma toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
What you know bout Texas
And how them boys be flexin
Right next to them Mexicans
They big bankroll checkin
Repping for ma city so all my cars pretty
And all my broads pretty I got some up in yo city
They go dumb up on my dick everytime I touch down
By the way I got a package, it just touched down
We smoking bay here where I stay
Gone off that home grown
I stay smoking like Cheech and Chong
Trippy stick got a nigga blown
Bad bitch rolling with me must ain’t got no panties on
Or her ass so fat I can’t see the thong
Bay chick got me sprung send me hella drank
I fell in love when she gave me the plug on
I can’t leave her I need her I treat her
Like she a queen gotta keep baby on team
Gotta keep making this green
Killing boys in them lows
Fuck it, I’m a ghost rider, slab then walk next to my 4s
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all ma toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
Coming down making noise
Candy paint on all ma toys
Gripping wood sipping good
What you know about it boy
What you know about it boy
Uh!
What you know about it boy
Trill OG, Bun B straight up out that T-E-X
On that southern swag
So you know you gots to see me next
Candy paint and all that smoking on a ball bat
Riding in the saddle boy but I don’t wear no tall hat
New era’s the snapbacks
Not them ten gallons
And I don’t ride on a horse
But I might come through with a stallion
That denim with no chaps
Just gangsta ass raps
With my nephew Mistab FABBY
You know all we make is slaps
Gimme dap, make it good mayne, when I’m in yo hood mayne
Riding in that Cadillac and gripping on that wood grain
Make it understood, plain and simple if you slow
And if you come from the ghetto playa you already know
Keep it G from head to toe
If I’m lying may he strike me
And if you didn’t hate me maybe you could do it like me
Its UGK for life, I’m riding for that Chad
So when you see a playa shining
Show him love he acting bad
Hold up