| We been on this fly shit, yeah we keep it gangsta
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| You know we been dropping tops, pulling out 4's
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| Spinning on boys, straight out Ike or Jet
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| Since Pat and Screw was around
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| What’s cracking lately my nigga, must ain’t heard of the news
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| The way I dropped a '60 Cheve, plus he grew in his shoes
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| I guess I’m fly, cause these boppers steady calling my phone
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| But I don’t really wanna be bothered, when I’m tipping my chrome
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| And I don’t really wanna be bothered, bitch I’m feeling my zone
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| Slow motion banging my song, four 15's to the dome
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| Yeah, I think you kinda feel the point that I’m stressing
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| Like a jacker that’s running up, gon feel the black Smith-N-Wesson
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| Off with top shocks on the drop, these jocks on cock
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| Clearing out the block, hearts gon stop when I set up the shop
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| Popping off with them thangs, still the same but changing my lanes
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| And as soon as my attitude change, I’m change up your frame
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| The name Trae bitch get it right, 'fore the Maab get to clicking
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| Like a TV in '86, back when the color was missing
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| So if you hating fuck you, 'fore a nigga buck you
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| To tell the truth I give a fuck, bout what you going through
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| Now pure playa when I pass, play the game with precision
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| So fly when I ride, girl go on take a picture
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| Got a swag so serious, you’ll mistake it for a dance
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| Got a strap so swoll, knock 'em clean out they pants
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| These hoes love Loc, they know Loc a real man
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| Baby mama want me back, but that hoe had a chance
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| Went from selling blocks of crack, to selling verses for grands
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| Real recognize real, that’s why Trae is my man
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| Look Big Loc forever fly, till I’m resting in peace
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| I’m so cold that my blood temp, about zero degrees
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| I’m so fly like Outkast, so fresh and so clean
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| Make the game look so easy, but I’m just doing my thing
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| I’m so fly, hopping out of my car with the rims spinning
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| Dubs up, looking like I just won a million
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| I ain’t tripping, it took a little time but me and my team cashing checks
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| Hopping out of planes, at L.A.X
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| Houston Tex what I rep, when I hit the West
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| Got a big ass Dub, hanging off my chest
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| Seeing niggas cuffing they chicks, run up bitch
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| And see how long it take my niggas, to blitz
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| I’m fly, but niggas still will get beat up
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| Every 24/7, got my motherfucking heater
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| Never leaving the house, without my pistol grip what I’m fin’s to grip
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| They tell me to calm down, but Lil' Boss Hogg is fin’s to trip
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| I advise you niggas, to catch hold of your brain
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| Cause 17 hollow points, might shower down like rain
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| Off the chain, fresh off the dock tipping a yacht
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| I bang like 5 Deuce Scott, tipping a drop
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| Bucking at cops I’m over the law, I’m over your jaw
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| Couped up in the kitchen, and I’m working with raw
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| Ain’t too many niggas, that can G like me
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| I keep about 16, B.G.'s with heat |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Been Fly (S.L.A.B.ed), artist - Trae Tha Truth. Album song Plex, Vol. 4.5 (S.L.A.B.ed), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп