| I’m from Texas, nigga where we Cadillac pushin'
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| Bitches blowing up my phone, but I’m in the kitchen cooking up the work
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| Still got bricks for the dirt
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| I be on my grind, gettin' mine, haters hearts hurt
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| Cause a nigga stay shinin', pullin' up in some foreign
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| Steppin' out clean to the grand Ralph Lauren
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| Bitches on my dick cause my paper stacks tall
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| And they see me everday in the galeria mall
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| Bitch I’m 6'6 tall like I play basketball
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| But I’m still ballin', Slim Thugga never fall
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| 15 years later paper still gettin' longer
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| And a nigga freestyle game gettin' stronger
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| Used to on the corner
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| Now I’m sellin' this to fiends
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| Breakin' boys off, on swangs lookin' clean
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| And they looking thick, I’m talkin' all the menage
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| Got a pitch in my penthouse give them massage
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| Bentley in my garage, bitch I been ballin'
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| I ain’t never stopped and hell yeah the ho’s callin'
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| Stay blowin' up my phone, tryna get some paper
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| Garage full of cars, stay shitin' on my neighbours
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| When I’m pullin' out clean
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| Sippin' on lean
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| It’s that boy Thugga and I’m shuttin' down the scene
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| Got a pocket full of green and a phone full of ho’s
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| I be hittin' Pappadeaux, lobster on my plate oh
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| A nigga like me eatin' real good and I came from the hood
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| Been the boss, mane and the shit is understood
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| Still grippin' on wood in the foreign
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| Bitches ain’t trippin', oh no haters I ain’t boring
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| Roll with the strap, got the judge sittin' close
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| If a nigga fuck with me he gon' get burnt like toast
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| Cause I’m a real G and ain’t playing games
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| And everybody in the streets know my motherfucking name
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| I putted in my work, I putted in my time
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| So now a G like me sittin' back to shine
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| Lookin' off top floors, still close candy do’s
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| Thugga never trippin', you hoes know how it goes
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| Gotta get the paper, Gotta get the green
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| I ain’t stickin' my dick in none of you hoes give me the green
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| You bitches better brang it, Thugga stay swangin'
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| Hit the boulevard came through game changin'
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| Still gaining fame and I’m still gainin' bucks
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| And you bops mad at me cause I don’t give a fuck
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| Them niggas is some simps
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| Bitch, we some pimps
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| Walking in the 5th with a motherfucking limp
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| Poppin' up golden bottles
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| Section full of models
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| Yeah a boss like me smash Ferrari throttles
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| Smash Ferrari throttles, going real fast
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| Mashin' 6−10 200 on the dash
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| All about the cash, hell yeah I’m gettin' paper
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| And I don’t give a fuck about no motherfucking hater
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| R.I.P. |
| Pimp C niggas like me keep it trill
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| And even when them other niggas fake, I keep it real
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| Ain’t got no deal, I ain’t got shit for me
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| Still gettin' paper, you ain’t know I’m a boss
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| See Imma buy more paper, Imma buy more money
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| Broke niggas better look at a nigga funny
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| Yeah I got them looking sick
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| I took them niggas chicks
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| And now they all mad cause they bitches on my dick
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| BHO click and them niggas still rich
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| Told you 15 years ago, Imma keep makin' hits
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| Shot out to that J-Dawg, shot out to the Killa
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| Shot out Young Black I’m talking all my gorillas
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| C-Ward served daily, all my dawgs from the camp
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| And we still shinin' like some motherfucking limps
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| Ain’t loving no tramp, bitch I dick 'em down and deuce 'em
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| I ain’t even trippin', hit the boulevard and lose 'em
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| Cruisin' real slow while I sip on the cruiser
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| You niggas talking down, but you niggas is some losers
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| Bitch I’m a winner, shinin' since the beginning
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| It’s that boy Thug Boss I’m still getting |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Talkin Texas , by - Slim Thug. Song from the album 20 Year Greatest Hits, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп