Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In a Slab, artist - Trae Tha Truth. Album song Slow, Loud and Bangin', Vol. 4, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.01.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Grand hustle, Trae Tha Truth
Song language: English
In a Slab |
Yeah 2003−2004, we in a slab on you boys |
Lil B in here representing with the fam |
Slow Loud And Bangin', y’all boys get it right |
We stinging it in your brain, you feel me |
We swanging and dropping top on you boys |
Hitting switches and making the front end |
Hop on you chumps |
In a slab, drop the drop and skate 4's |
Beating up the block, and moving so slow |
In a slab, peeping haters as I roll by |
In a Cheve 7−5, but still I’m so fly |
In a slab, I know these boppers peeping me |
They peep the G, and peep the way I wreck the streets |
I’m in a slab, blue when I wet the block |
We wreck the lot, so now we got the game on lock |
I’m in the zone, sitting on 20 inches of chrome |
Looking like a baby plane, with bubble eye beams on |
Moving niggas out the way, when the Trae come through |
Be strutting on blue, the same nigga repping for Screw |
I started the S.L.A.B., and now we got the click on fire |
My inches be higher, then Mariah hit notes in the choir |
I’m in a slab, and ain’t no way I’m stopping my shine |
I swang and recline, just like I know the game is mine |
Peep game, I’m peeping these haters and weaving these hoes |
That’s peeping my 4's, I’m slamming suicide do’s |
You know I stay fly, in a hard top drop top |
Cocking Glocks, boys know this shit don’t stop |
We in a slab deliver jabs, to niggas that’ll knock |
On jock, Lil B making you niggas body rock |
Trunk knock the trunk pop, and do the Southside |
Do’s locked the front hop, when I be swinging wide |
I hope the block like hop scotch, skating on chrome |
I swang and I roll, with twin hoes bad to the bone |
Forever a G, on buck hide throw up the Southside |
From block to block, to them haters got they mouth wide |
Open, keeping 'em scoping just like the laws |
So amazed by the ways, I’m flipping with no flaw |
So gangsta no wankstas, on my team |
If you fall out of place, you catching a red beam |
Catch me in a slabed out, yeah |
Jet with, a bumper grill |
Floating down your block, Cl’Che gon show the skills |
Steady make them boys holla (she real) |
I got freestyle for days, and lyrics that’d kill |
Can’t hang with hoes, cause these hoes ain’t real |
So I roll with fellas, oops I mean guerillas |
Cl’Che-Guerilla Maab nigga, all in your grill-a |
You can catch the Dougie squatting and tipping, on deuce-deuce |
My slab is like a person, I love to change up the shoes |
When I pass by the block, lil' kids say ooh |
Yeah I’m like the Fast and the Furious, speeding like vroom |
I ride with the trunk up and cracked, with the seat back |
Sipping purple stuff, while I’m blowing a ball bat |
Dropping the top, and you bitches throwing deuce and giving dab |
Blue, black or the red don’t you touch my slab |
How I’m flipping the block, never tricking on a bop |
Lying to these hoes, say I left my shit in the drop |
You want a drop stick bitch, I can give you the cock |
But when it comes to the money, I gotta keep it on lock |
Switching lane to lane, as I grip on grain |
Four wheel drive, riding out all terrain |
You keep it simple and plain, I come knocking with bang |
Candy paint so wet, that it look like it rained |
Pull out the slab, steady beating the AVE |
I peeped your pad, I already smashed your gal |
Like a crab I crawl slow, low pro 84 |
Think a playa ball, cause I do it just like it go |
Fa sho, need I say no mo' |
Recognize a G nigga, till the day I go |
Pimp Skinny that’s fa sho, crack the trunk and it go |
Beating up the block, motherfuckers say whoa |
I’m in a bucket, but I’m riding it like it’s a Benz |
I got hubs on dubs, that look just like rims |
They don’t stay up, and my mirrors broke |
But it’s crunk and ended, it leave a trail of smoke |
But I’m known to get fly, when I flip in my Houpe |
Pimping my juice, nigga with the deuce out the roof |
You can catch me on your block, bang and banging the AVE |
Slow Loud And Bangin', nigga that’s my slab |
Come and flip with me sip with me, swanging the butter |
Call me the candy wrecker, cause my slab can pull a |
Bad bitch, that wanna suck me up while I’m driving |
Navigating her head, just keeping her bobbing |
I’m leaving it round sticky, everywhere that I be in |
59 touching 90, up and down I-10 |
Showtyme like Sprewells, my job is to keep moving |
Leaning in my whip, Southside still grooving |
You know me Kepoe, the one that come throwed |
Hit so hard, when I jab the intro |
Houston boy, coming up the end zones |
Sitting sideways, in a double-O Benzo |
Y’all ain’t ready holding the wheel steady |
Looking fine than a bitch, on 20 inch Perelli’s |
With my roll dog Trae, we headed to L. A |
Or the Grammy’s in Miami, so niggas better make way |