(feat. N.O. Joe)



[Pimp C]

I gotta come down, I got a bangin trunk

So when I come through you feel the slab just bump

Them niggas sipin syrup and them bitches on that gin

Man hit that sweet one time for Smoke-D locked down in that pen

I'm blowin out the window, you know I'm rollin glass

I'm bumpin that Screw, that t-a-t, that boy actin a ass 

Cause down in Texas nigga, we got our own stores

We got the baddest bitches and we roll the freshest cars

I flip to New Orleans by you clask I'm on the scene

Got dress improvement steam I step out that bitch so clean

I poured out some liquor on the street for that fool Todd

He was a trill ass nigga never came at me prod

Man I was talkin to Playa G just the other night

He told me about this nigga that was talkin about me shife

Fool nigga this UGK Bun and C we run the streets

And tell your bitch ass brother he can't fuck with my beats

So if you wanna be bangin nigga the good shit don't come cheap

I'm talkin 7000 over 3 knock off a G

Cause fool this ain't no game nigga all about my change

I'm comin baby Fleetwood swangin on them thangs



[Chorus x4]

I gotta come down 

I gotta stay real 

I gotta break them boys off bumper and grill



[Bun B]

Now tell me what it's all about in the south

Big gold grill in you mouth

Much leather inside yo car, on yo back, in yo house

Sit in a nigga's ride the seats feel like a couch

Big keys in my pouch

Bitch if it hurt say ouch

Now if I look like a south don't try to cap

You know a nigga like me be ridin dirty with big dope up in his lap

Oh, but when I'm shinin bitch I'm blazin

Hoes shrivlin up like raisins talkin bout it so amazin

How big Bun be rollin through Texas with sexy hoes keepin they wig done

Bustas bite the big one

From dis to dip this swisher houses

Let's flip from that maker maker to that after hours on Scott

They always drinkin trip mixed with crush 75 or 4

Make a nigga wanna fuss, but I can't

Cause I need the rush of codeine so I can lean

I prop a pill 

Cause I'm trill to the bone

Crushin with that crome



[Chorus]



[N.O. Joe]

What's up bruh this N.O. Joe representin gumbo

Funk in you trunk that got yo ears wide open like you dumb ho

I'm livin larger than most a coast to coast slipper

That ice-bowl sipper that's never known to be a set tripper

Too many diamonds for you to try to look at directly

Haters don't check me they respect me

A pistol packin, no shank, shiny grill, full tank

Checkin out these bustas thinkin they real when they ain't

Y'all call me mister foreign

I'm comin down at navy porscha

Either way I'ma be a highway scorcher, blunt torcher

I'm catchin out doin 120 on the tallway the whole way

Turnin the corners that I once hung out

I got the boppers strung out

Walkin around with they tounge out

Naw, I stay behind the wheel grinnin

Burnin 500 dollar rubber, 5000 dollar rim spinnin



[Chorus x7]