| Four do’s, behind the tint
|
| You know, I still got love for my
|
| S.L.A.B., swanging wide and looking thoed
|
| That’s how them S.L.A.B. |
| niggas roll
|
| You know, we still Slow Loud And Bangin', S.L.A.B
|
| Now why won’t they pay me, Lakeisha and Brenda
|
| See Brenda was the girl, that stayed across from Tammy
|
| See Tammy told Lekeisha, I was up to no good
|
| And all I did was sold dope, and grip on the wood
|
| See Lakeisha never knew a thing, about Lil Head
|
| All she knew the slab I’m flipping, shit it use to be red
|
| She was amazed, from the orange over gray
|
| I got your number I’ma holla back, now listen to Trae
|
| Hopping out my slab, paint be shining like I was Puffy
|
| A bad boy to the fullest, you nothing niggas disgust me
|
| Trae a gangsta and a pimp with a limp, more flyer than a blimp
|
| With Dougie on the side, as he roll in the back with a clip
|
| With me and Warren swanging a four, and like it’s a Houpe
|
| On the highway for the loot, and D-Bo hanging out the roof
|
| To for them niggas not knowing, we be on that other shit
|
| Pop the trunk and banging shit, fo' do' tinted up type shit
|
| Whether blue or red, we still proceed to turn a head
|
| Introduce 'em to the sound, of a nigga that’s bout his bread
|
| Rep a nigga till he dead, everyday I gotta get it raw
|
| This how I spit it, till a nigga see a mill ticket
|
| Creep and crawl in my fo' do', I let my ass end up
|
| As I recline slide on buck, with drank in my cup
|
| My screens digital, showing nothing but raw naked ass
|
| Click the remote, and watch a hater as he bypass
|
| With the automatic camera, secured by Viper
|
| Give my bitch three feet, 'fore I become a sniper
|
| A close street fighter, you don’t want it with me
|
| So it be best, you stay away from my S-L-A-B
|
| When I creep it’s late night, picking up your hoe
|
| Bending corners in Hiram-Clarke, banging S.L.A.B. |
| Volume 4
|
| A pro that you know, by the name of Lil B
|
| When I ride, I hide behind T-I-N-T
|
| I creep the block late night, on a mission for cash
|
| '93 road master, when I mash the gas
|
| With Lil B and Lil T, when I’m flipping the South
|
| What you know about them thugs, with karats up in they mouth
|
| It’s the S.L.A.B. |
| Slow Loud And Bangin', representing for Texas
|
| For haters that got plexes, we leaving you niggas chestless
|
| No games gon be played, if you fucking with me
|
| It’s the nigga Jay’Ton, from S-L-A-B
|
| Candy red Impala, it be my slab
|
| Coming down the Boulevard, throwing deuce and dab
|
| I ain’t tripping just sipping, when I’m crawling slow
|
| Blowing on the killa dro, I don’t want no mo'
|
| Gotta watch out for my car, cause it’s my main
|
| See my down the I-10, on them Euro’s mayn
|
| Me and the click getting raw, like Chi-Town and Utah
|
| We the best you ever seen, like Rockets and Yao Ming
|
| Don’t stretch the slab, cause somebody will top you
|
| Even if it’s Shae, in that candy blue
|
| Can’t forget about BJ, he wet up too
|
| South Klique and S.L.A.B., got niggas sicker than the flu
|
| Slow Loud And Bangin', up and down your block
|
| Smoking sipping, and flipping flossing and dropping the top
|
| Leaving the Boulevard wet, when I be pulling out
|
| That there, ain’t nothing but candy mayn
|
| Fifth reclined, spiders be spinning up out my 4's
|
| Screens lit, huffing and puffing and blowing dro
|
| Lane to lane, swang and popping the trunk on you hoes
|
| That’s the way it goes down, in the Dirty you know
|
| Slip and we sliding, riding high yeah we looking good
|
| Like UGK, I got’s to keep diamonds against the wood
|
| Cutting corners and bending blocks, up in every hood
|
| Behind tint, so you can’t see what I’m doing
|
| Fo' do’s behind tint, roof lift I’m getting bent
|
| Hit the switch the trunk release, on them 4's
|
| I play it you leave stuck, my slab as I flow
|
| Bending corners against the grain, cracking the frame
|
| Nigga bang or snooze, as I cruise on the block
|
| My screens lit, time to clear the club parking lot
|
| I’m one deep, so I got enough room for the bops
|
| From a Houpe, back to a drop
|
| J-Dub I’m getting shine on, through a school zone
|
| Ain’t no stopping for boppers, cause I got money on my mind
|
| By the way that I blind, you can tell I ain’t lying
|
| Only 12 and a playa, and he running the family
|
| You a hater move around, cause you ain’t no kin to me
|
| J-D-U-B, nigga F-U-K me
|
| Baby edging, and ain’t no way you can fade me |