| Still representing trying to hold it down, you know I’m saying
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| (we ain’t tripping, fuck what you heard), on the cool you know I’m saying
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| A lot of niggas out there hating, getting this shit twisted nigga
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| (love you boy), I’ma ride for life
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| Screw-U I’m only ten, but it feel like I’m bigger
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| Repped the whole Southside, you was everybody nigga
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| That’s a fact, I’ma call it how I see it
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| Them other niggas cheated, but you can’t be defeated
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| It’s the J-Dub, showing love from the heart
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| You built some’ing, that them niggas can’t take apart
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| Screwed up the whole neighborhood, even Houston
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| Even us kids, representing for the Screwston
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| Even to this day, it ain’t a damn thang changed
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| I’m still riding for the cause, I gotta make it through the pain
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| Remember us, we was liver than most of these niggas on the street
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| And I ain’t lying, when I found out that you flied I couldn’t take it inside
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| You was blue on Impalas, and turning heads on the 'vard
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| And being real on these streets, and keeping these fake niggas scarred
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| Was Shorty Mac and Al-D, this your lil' nigga Trae
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| Blue over grey top down, lighting up the freeway
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| Catch us crawling down the Boulevard, sitting on 4's
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| Hollin' at the bitches, and we getting at the hoes
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| You know we thoed, blowing smoke out our nose
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| We show up and po' up, that’s the way the game goes
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| We doing our thang, with a fist full of grain
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| Pop the trunk on these punks, let these niggas see the bang
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| Switching lane to lane, jamming Screw fa sho
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| Rest in peace to my nigga, while we blowing the dro what
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| S.L.A.B., coming through
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| We got some, brand new shit for you
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| I really, miss my nigga Screw
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| That’s why, we steady paying dues
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| Nothing but that Southside shit, and we still missing Screw
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| Chopped up and banging, niggas hollin' what it do
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| This for you, represent it and come through
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| Capers ripping never tripping, niggas always keep it true
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| Riding blue, can’t forget the grey side pieces
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| Cause you never could be defeated, though them hate niggas cheated
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| Got to beat it, from sun up to sun down
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| And this is how it go down, Screwed Up and slowed down
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| S.L.A.B. |
| soldiers mashing on, can a nigga feel a G
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| R.I.P. |
| to the Screw, you didn’t even know me
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| But you get much respect, I keep your tape in my deck
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| From Y2-Grey to Independent, stay to Who’s Next To Plex
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| Either tape won’t eject, it was a Southside classic
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| Boys done got wrecked, crawling through the school traffic
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| Niggas be laughing, at them fake ass scrubs
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| Candy painted by that Jack, cause I knew you loved blue
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| Paying dues nigga, I refuse to lose
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| SUV’s on 22's, staying strapped like shoes
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| I’m a young nigga, putting it all on the line
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| You better give me fifty feet, cause ain’t no stopping my shine
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| I gotta get it nigga, I can’t settle for less
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| Remember seeing DJ Screw, up in a blue SS
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| Chop the scene bending corners, better believe that you missed
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| Slow Loud And Bangin, got these niggas feeling this
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| It started at Broadway, from the Mo to the West
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| And Lord knows, me and DJ Screw use to do this
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| Bounce-bounce, and body rock to this
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| Down South Screwed Up Click, is the motherfucking shit
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| Pee Wee ain’t tripping, just grain gripping and tipping
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| He’s in my mind hold it down, going hard with this pimping
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| Block bleeding, pray to the Lord got me shown
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| I had it hard but it’s on, god damn why he gone
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| Where would I be, without Screw
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| (where would I be, without Screw)
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| Where would I be, without Screw
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| (wheeere, would I be)
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| I’m a S.L.A.B. |
| soldier, mashing on for the Screw
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| If they talking down, I’m yelling out what it do
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| Six cars deep, candy red or the blue
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| Grey cassette, my tape stamped by you
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| Can’t no other take your place, cause you’s the best
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| Screwed Up Records & Tapes, so fuck the rest
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| You a true Southsider, 6−10 glider
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| Off the chain, we gonna miss you mayn
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| Hop out the fo' do', with a mouth piece to glow
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| Bitch niggas be hating us, why I keep a 4−4
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| Chips only wash up, screens to Acapulco
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| Lord knows, that we miss you Screw
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| And it’s me the T, and we gon still love you
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| Coming through in the blue, on blades and dots
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| Chopping blocks, trunk pops and sailing the South
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| And to you bitch niggas, keep my name out your mouth
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| Screw opened the do' for a lot of cats, we gon chop it up we gon bring it back
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| South Klique that is a fact, S.U.C. |
| with my trunk cracked
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| Bound to kill with Shorty Mac, a verbal attack when I earn my plack
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| My mouth piece like selling crack, chop say with panamax
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| I miss that boy so I blaze a bag, in the turning lane I’m sitting fat
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| Screwed up the way you did that, D.E.A. |
| we got your back
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| It’s the Jay’Ton, little brother of the Trae
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| We kicked it a few times, and met on the Beltway
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| You was a real nigga, and I looked up to that
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| Screwed up on every track, I wish I could bring you back
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| The real gon peep real, and real gon peep fake
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| Screwed Up Records & Tapes, that’s all I gotta say
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| R.I.P. |
| Screw-U, you know we gon hold it down
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| Slow Loud And Bangin, all over H-Town |