| When I’m rolling chrome
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| You can get one in your dome
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| Bitch nigga, your cover is blown
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| I got the cut dog sitting low, outside front do'
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| This how a Texas boy, ride on 84's
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| Yeah, I’m the whole pint sipper
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| Candy paint tipper, plus wood grain gripper
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| Hit downtown, and squash all the plex
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| They like damn, there’s Z-Ro and Mike D and T-Rex
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| It’s welcome to H-Town, it’s 3rd Ward talking
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| When the hog go to the barking, y’all niggas know to park it
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| All that extra etcetera, y’all don’t want no problem
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| This thang under my waist, came here to solve it
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| A nigga jack me, I’ll jack you back
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| Cause it’s a must I roll Lac, with the fifth in the back
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| Hear them old school playing, with a whole bunch of money
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| Still do it in these streets, like I’m young and just start coming
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| The Black Victor new mayn, straight out of Screwston
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| Rolling on chrome, tell them haters bring it on Ro
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| Jackers wanna know, what I’m holding on
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| When I’m rolling chrome
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| You can get one, in your dome
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| Bitch nigga, your cover is blown
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| Now whenever I’m seen in the city, I’m looking so grown
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| Either the Crentley or the van, I’m on top of something so chrome
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| Candy blue paint on my car, candy blue paint on my van
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| I know it look like diamonds on the steering wheel, but they on my hand
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| Just look at my piece and chain, ain’t this proof that I’m having thangs
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| But dude I tell ya back up, and with the mac soon as you snatch it mayn
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| End up just like Showtyme, he got robbed bout three or fo' times
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| Bling-blinging ain’t for everybody baby, but Ro gon' shine
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| Pardon me if you don’t mind, Mo City my stomp ground
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| Use to call us pretty niggas, until we started leaving chalk outlines
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| Tote big pistols and walk round, and seek out those who talk down
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| Run up in em like a dildo, then spray the place lay the law down
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| Ain’t none of my riches come for free, I broke my back to make it
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| And since my spine still hurting, I’ll be damned if anybody’s taking
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| Anything I worked hard fo', when I slaved over the stove
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| What you see me with go inside the box with me, fuck you hoes ah-ha
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| I bought a Cadillac, dropped it on the street top
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| Think it was '88 I start slanging crack rock, yeah
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| Same year, was the birth of Corleone
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| Caught me sliding up Main, by Camroe on chrome
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| Grill under my woman, see me when I’m coming
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| Looking for you haters, with my 18's humming
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| I was crawling hurting, breaking up the strip
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| Chrome 84's, hell yeah they been dipped nigga
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| A message to anybody, in a candy coated fo' do'
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| Fucking with a fast food drive through, is a no-no
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| Get done like Kane did ol' boy, in that Mustang
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| In Menace II Society, die or give it up quietly
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| Hold what you got, gon' bring them 84's out a lot
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| Jackers’ll find out where you lay your head, and be at your spot
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| That’s why my pistol be in my lap, when I be rolling
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| It’s not playa to leave home rolling, and come back strolling |