Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Break Em' Off, artist - Paul Wall. Date of issue: 01.04.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Break Em' Off |
| I’mma break 'em off real bad |
| I’mma show 'em pourin' up a duece and ridin' slab |
| Now I gotta work my woodgrain wheel |
| Poppin' trunks, poppin' pills, still poppin' seals |
| Higher than a hill with my mind on mill |
| Piece and chain swangin', bankroll, shiny grill |
| Baby, I got million dollar dreams, with my mind on cream |
| I’m in that mean, green machine; |
| clean, on 19s |
| Flatscreens in the headrest, swingin' like a swingset |
| Brandywine paint wet, comin' down, that’s a bet |
| I’m in the lot chasin' broads like a lesbian |
| Full of that kush-flower, I’m breakin' off pedestrians |
| Higher than a streetlight, floatin' like a parachute |
| Buzzin' like a bumblebee, mustard-green Bentley coupe |
| Young gangsta mack game sharper than a thumbtack |
| Breakin' 'em off, makin' all the boppers attract |
| Then they watch me, I’m rocked up, fully loaded and sloppy |
| Tryna hit it and quit it and walk off like Big Papi |
| Break 'em off |
| I’mma break 'em off real bad |
| I’mma show 'em pourin' up a duece and ridin' slab |
| Aye, aye |
| I pull up like this, untouchable white wrist |
| I’m hotter than warm piss, berry grape Sunkist |
| The truck gold mist 550 snow bunny |
| Bentley Continental with the mink floors dummy |
| Paul Wall money, that’s expensive taste |
| And them friendly ass fools we send 'em to MySpace |
| I’mma break 'em off until the backbone broken |
| Stainless steel drop Phantom, leave the top open |
| Shit done hit the fan, better cover your nose |
| And the kush done start burnin', better cover your clothes |
| (That's right) |
| Concrete crumblin', glass shootin' lasers |
| Crawlin' and cuttin' up on 24 razors |
| I’mma show 'em how to make the slab look phenomenal |
| Chasin' paper in the mornin', call me Houston Chronicle |
| Hold on, then you buckle up the seat belt |
| SwishaHouse, Young Don, capital TF |
| I’mma break 'em off real bad |
| I’mma show 'em pourin' up a duece and ridin' slab |
| Already |
| I’m higher than a satellite, crawlin' like a baby |
| Maneuvering through the traffic like I’m Tracy McGrady |
| Still choppin' on them buttons, I’m struttin' and lookin' fresh |
| Switch hittin' like Berkman, this is ballin' at its best |
| In that Minute Maid dropper with retractable roof |
| Finer than wood, wavin' the hood, student loans on the tooth |
| The fifth wheel on the ground |
| And the trunk in the air |
| Paul Wall, baby I’m the definition of playa |
| My skills is so ill when workin' that wood wheel |
| Tippin' 4s like a waiter, beware of the oil spill |
| Widescreen mindframe, panoramic pimpin' |
| I’m sippin' on that Osama, baby, leanin' like I’m limpin' |
| In that two-seater feeder, it’s me and a señorita |
| Three ounces up in the liter |
| And it’s ten up in the heater |
| Mackin' a mamacita |
| Runnin' game like a cheetah |
| I’m knockin' 'em out the park similar to Derek Jeter |
| Break 'em off |
| I’mma break 'em off real bad |
| I’mma show 'em pourin' up a duece and ridin' slab |