(feat. Fat Pat, Mr. 3-2) 



[talking] 

Yo, you done tuned into radio Boss Hogg Corleone 

Yeah that's right, Miggity Mike D and I'm back 

Yeah 60 days out the Penn, putting it on you niggaz shoulders 

Like it go you know I'm saying, My Gift to the World 

My Gift to the World, from the Don Corleone is to bless you 

With all the greatest hits I done been on, you know I'm saying 

Skeet taste you, for that Hoggin Da Game come out 

Cause I'm fin to put it in your face, Corleone Family Entertainment 

Baby, we fin to take over this thang for the 2 triple 0-4 you smell me 



[Hook x2] 

Swing down, sweet chariots let me ride 

Coming down slow, on the damn Southside 

Swanging on 4's, slamming on do's 

Gripping your hoe, that's the way it goes 



[Fat Pat] 

It's the big sugar daddy, bailing none other 

Coming down with blunt, in the red and peanut butter 

Naw I didn't stutter, popping trunks surround 

Coming down slow, watch a playa what clown 

On the Boulevard, yeah my swangas we'll mob 

I'm coming down the Boulevard, swanging on them hard 

Me and C.B., got the T.V. on 

Got my glock in my lap, riding till dawn 

Man it's all goody, hit the parking lot 

Pop trunk red neon, it don't stop 

Watching hoes bop, cause we on that glass 

C.B. crawling, yeah I got on my mask 

With my Sacci looks, ready to let my pistol smoke 

Cause up in the C, and I'm gone off that dope 

Leaning on the drank, so what you think 

I got my hand on my glock, plus I got my shank 



[Hook x2] 



[Mike D] 

I swang on dots, floss on chops 

Hit the scene beat it up, like a boiling crock pot 

Dipping so low, in the Jag cockpit 

Got my paws frostbit, with six screens lit 

Feeling like the shit, mobbing on twin Z's 

Pat in front of the Lac, I'm in the J-A-G 

Sipping a skeet taste, with a cannon on my waste 

Iceberg to the drawas, putting it all in your face 

Shocking and body rocking, swanging side to side 

Crawling wide body, with Palomino inside 

Tell I'm a 84 glider, on the block glider 

Catch me and 3 in the Pathfinder, with diamonds that'll blind you 

Smoking on sticky, sipping lean in my machine 

Through the parking lot crawling, hogging dogging the scene 

With my mug on mean, working sixteen 

Swanging on you boys, fulfilling ghetto dreams 



[Hook x2] 



[Mr. 3-2] 

Lumilean to Eddies, money over bop hoes 

My Diablo, and see six zeros 

Niggaz sturn like 84's, and switch like kids 

Gotta move around, cause they'll put it in your ears 

Still sipping but no beer, check up in my styrofoam 

In H-Town Texas, my home sweet home 

The Governor and Corleone, P-A-T resurrected 

Vote for Mr. 3-2, to be reelected 

Me Mafia connected, with the streets on lock 

Entertaining my peoples, on the fifty foot yacht 

I move a big body out to, bending corners turning heads 

From the Boulevard MLK, to the blocks of Homestead 

We flossing and flipping turning, tipping so low 

Beating the trunk, and dropping the top real slow 

Letting the world feel it, realest from the Gulf Coast 

We swang down up on the block, body rock with my folks 



[Hook x2] 



[scratching]