
Date of issue: 01.09.2003
Song language: English
Above Average |
It’s getting drastic, I’m a classic |
Like a '57 Cheve, chromed out looking acid |
It’s the Chemist motherfucker, that done lived in the bricks |
It’s the Clover where I grind, and get rid of it quick |
I’m digging this shit, I got to deal and live with this shit |
Watching my mama smile, when she flip hundreds in a six |
How good as it get, knowing your whole hood is rich |
From Texas to the Boot, we out the wood bitch |
I’m a Botany Boy nigga, that’s down and dirty |
So dirty I’m up early, getting thirty of them birdies |
I’m pumping this shit, hitting the slab dumping this shit |
Cocaine cowboy, with the scorpion prince |
Triple beams pyrexes, and digital scales |
Overweighted with cheddar, tipping the scale |
Will-Lean I’m on the block, and I’m bringing the raw |
Inner-state outlaw, easy popping frost |
The 3rd Coast, niggas above average |
Diamonds by the karats, money I gotta have it |
Dirty South, I’m quick to cock and blast it |
Burning like acid, nigga this is a classic |
I’m like a red-nosed pit, walking through the crowd with no owner |
Got you wondering where in the fuck, did this motherfucker go |
Now wait a minute let’s think a second, we 3rd Coast and pandering |
Plus I’m known for slug shooting, talking shit and slandering |
Can’t handle him I’m spitting straight, even when I’m staggering |
Toe for toe blow for blow, ready to battle them |
No shatter them I saddle in, chunk the West and hit the wind |
Sliding sideways down the Interstate, searching for a win |
State to state cakes we bake, smash the gas and fuck the breaks |
And in a minute I’m gon be rich, right now I’ma work the weight |
Touchdown and Texas-fied, with the weight to stash the Glock |
Hit the block and punch the clock, real niggas set up shop |
Move em in and move em out, too much cash to talk about |
Snitches get two shots to the mouth, fucking with my feddy spot |
It’s a drout, and I got out the do' |
Yeah Den Den bitch, 'fore your ass go broke |
Nigga my click above average, I’m pushing to be the man |
Call me a Paccino, and say hello to my little friend |
I’m a veteran, so shut your loose lips |
Before I pop this loose clip, and sink your loose ship |
You done heard of me, I’m that killer that don’t talk |
I’m that great white shark, that only creeps in the dark |
I’m the predator you’re the prey, better watch what you say |
On me this AK, mayday-mayday |
I’m like a pitbull, that lock on ya |
Start foaming from the mouth, lights out on ya |
Now you sleeping in the corner, your brains locked on ya |
I ain’t tripping you better catch a head, or see heaven or hell homie |
I got a hunger for this cheddar, like a god damn savage |
Star status above average, I gotta live lavish |
Vault box on overload, cause I won’t stop pumping |
Fo' fifth up in the holster, and I won’t stop dumping |
Swanging through the lot, looking like I’m throwing bows |
Dismantle the club scene, on 84's and new 4's |
Your slut on my dick, cause you too feminine to please her |
And the shit around my wrist, they cold as a deep freezer |
Plus my paint job, looking like a po’d up gallon |
And her ass body rocking, like the switches I’m handling |
Everytime a thug nigga strong through the do', hoes know |
Bezeltynes hang low, and my nuts dragging the flo' |
Spit shit like a fo' fifth, and a clip full of lead |
V.I.P. |
with a young yellow, licking my third leg |
Two to the head band, for trying to plex with Bub |
Drop her off with a wet twat, and cum in her mug it’s going down nigga |
Name | Year |
---|---|
R.I.P. To Screw | 2003 |
Roll With Us Or Get Rolled Over | 2003 |
On My Grind | 2003 |
Don't Fuck With Us | 2003 |
Mob With You | 2003 |
Wise Guy | 2003 |
Go Gettaz | 2003 |
Lil' Mama | 2003 |
Pimps, Playaz, Hustlers | 2003 |
Rip To DJ Screw (T-Pop feat. Z-Ro, C-Note, Trae & Ronnie Spector) | 2005 |