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