Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Represent H-Town (S.L.A.B.ed), 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
We Represent H-Town (S.L.A.B.ed) |
Man, this motherfucking underground shit |
Ain’t ready for S.L.A.B. |
baby, we in here |
It’s that nigga Rick D baby, I’m in here with Trae |
Guerrilla Maab, and the Girt mayn |
Shitting on the spit mayn, it’s going down 2003 |
Hey get down, lay down |
Cause we got what it takes, to make you cakes and all you bricks |
Lay down, hate now |
It’s Girt Boys, S.L.A.B. |
and Trae, you know we gotta represent |
H-Town, whoa now |
Don’t beef with the team, we mean what we say so |
Bitch slow down, whoa now |
Nigga we’ll put it in your face, get it straight |
We Guerillas, you niggas is chimps |
And we too tall, to deal with you shrimps |
By the way I’m a playa, boo-wow when I fill you with shrimp |
Respect my gangsta chick, cause you dealing with pimps |
Hey I’m straying off of the subject, if you don’t feel S.L.A.B |
The Mack’ll have you feeling Trae, off of your stomach |
That’s Trae from the Tre pound, off of your stomach |
We go platinum, I’m hitting Trae out for the hundreds |
Some of you hate, to see us niggas get paid |
And that’s probably why we got bad blood, like niggas with AIDS |
This game ain’t sweet, but y’all got licorice ways |
The truth hurt, you don’t want me to finish this phrase do you |
Aw naw, Trae up in this bitch |
And tear the walls down, I thought I told you befo' |
Hey back down, 'fore a nigga Mack drown |
You in a pool of blood, and let me tell you something else |
Mack rounds, leave a nigga back down |
On the ground, cause he choose to thug |
That popcorn shit, bout to drown out |
Call me ringmaster, cause I’m calling clowns out |
On some pimp shit, smacking you sluts |
On some square shit, snatching your nuts |
And boys better, get it right |
'Fore I hit em right, in they fitted right |
Between the letters, put it on your mind you get it right |
Say, let me slow it down |
So you can keep up, Unique I hold it down |
Like Will and C-Note |
You niggas can’t tell me, you don’t feel what we quote |
U-nique, bastard child |
Ignorant slow swagger, nasty smile |
Grit Boys, ain’t no concern what you bragging bout |
Like MLK on Sunday, nigga slabbed out |
I do' ran up on a nigga, and spit it sick on all you faking niggas |
Hell-i-fied when I click on niggas, that be on my dick ass niggas |
I’m telling you I’m a lunatic, but my name ain’t Nelly |
I be the one, to hit the block and let off five in your belly |
One deep and swanging a Chevy, Slow Loud And Bangin' I’m packing |
Bad ain’t to know niggas stacking, them niggas need to quit rapping |
Haven’t you heard of my team, with a red beam |
And it’s cocked, with a four pound that I’m packing |
I make a heavyweighter drop stop and roll, trying to get away from the Maab |
Niggas tripping, they think I’m slicking they ass out of a job |
And I know I’m too hard, so you niggas finna see |
I’m a nigga with attitude, that these haters don’t wanna meet |
Fuck you, and the rest that hate |
Grit Boys rep the H, got heat that’ll melt your face |
You must got breath, to waste |
Fuck that shit, my niggas trying to get some cake |
Hey, Girt Boys came to win |
Got the rap game, caving in |
Nigga I ain’t your friend, Scoob don’t know y’all niggas |
So, he let the chamber spin |
Then, get back to my do' |
Get stacks from my hoe, bitch crack on the low |
I’m telling y’all niggas |
Any chit-chat, guns’ll blow whoa |
Oh, can’t forget B and Trae |
Y’all niggas don’t need to play, might just bleed today |
The Maab in this bitch, so drop to your knees and pray |
We know, none of y’all niggas want it with Arch' |
I’ll have the paramedics screaming, that they losing your heartbeat |
Cause damn, I’ve been waiting a long time |
To show you cock sucker motherfuckers, I work with this chrome nine |
And fuck who you came with, cause all y’all faking |
You need to peep game, and realize what y’all facing |
I keep them hogs waiting, for any altercation |
I let the bullets rush through your team, like Walter Payton |
I get it done right, nigga MJ style |
I’ll give you 42 shots, in one night |
And yeah I let the Mach spit, and make you |
Bitch niggas back down for fucking with Arch, S.L.A.B. |
and Grit bitch |
You boys better move around, back-back |
'Fore I grab the black gat, busting shots that’ll make your blood splat |
Feel that Grit, S.L.A.B. |
and my kin folk Trae |
Shooting game to you busters, we hustles for pay day |
Gotta get it come back with it, it don’t quit |
Lay you down, 'fore you fuck around and get your wig split |
Young Guerillas that’s after scrilla, haters you gotta love it |
Push and shove it, you think I’m bluffing big trucks I’m dubbing |
Plus fo' still known, to tack a hater toe |
Representing H-Town, whenever you hear me flow |
Lil B, also known as By-Bo |
Get out of line, I’ll be busting like a crooked po-po |
Fa sho a nigga gleam, better yet a nigga shine |
Bled blocks for stocks, on the corners of Grape Vine |
When you see a nigga, chunk a deuce or move around |
Third Coast finest, making you chumps lay it down |
Make way for the Jay’Ton, he next to bat |
With a gat and a pack, that’ll heat up your back |
Do my dirt and burn off, you wankstas getting tossed |
Swanging the boulevard, till the laws getting lost |
Hit the block and set up shop, for fiends that need rocks |
Just quick it if you wanna, then I’m knocking your ass off |
Like Lennox Lewis, candy blue on the Buick |
If it’s fast then I Screw it, I gotta stay true to it |
It’s the S-L-A-B, I got it tatted on my arm |
15's be beating, like I be busting at Sadaam |
17 years old, a gangsta I know |
If a nigga out of line, I’m wrecking him like a flow |