(feat. Juan Gotti, Baby Bash, Coast, Lucky Luciano, ...)



[Verse 1: Juan Gotti]

Razaville Texas Houston to McAllen

Deep in San Anto, screw Rich y Valles

Rollin' throught Dallas, Foritos, and Corpus

Odessa, Laredo, the locos in Austin

Texas made Mexicans north of the border

Land of the free, smoking weed with my Gordo

Motherfuckers laid back in yo Cadillac

Let me jump in this shit like back to back

Stay real for life, roll down south

For the wreckshop, for the hometown crowd

My alias is that Go-Hard-Mexican

Flowin' through your veins like medicine

Wanna be down? On the H-town

Real ballas fight for the rebound

B-town to motherfuckin G-town

Creep around everybody G'd out

Can't see how you can dawg me out

Make me out, take me out

Deep south, my hood got more slack

Than eighty-eight cowboys ridin' on horse back

Top that! the Mexicans all that

Strike like a snake and attack like a bobcat



[Verse 2: Baby Bash]

Hoe ass niggaz, there ain't nothing worse

They do it for panurch, but I do it for the purse

And I'm still on the search, sometime I go to church

Seven deuce old school Cadillac with the skirts

And I speak for motherfuckers on the couch and the flo'

Cause a Mexican like my self is out for some dough

But ya already know, if you got big pelotas

Anybody now a days, might be the chotas

A young Baby Beesh, he don't fuck with police

And all' beat the dog shit out your nephew and niece

If they ever get the snitching, yelling, telling and singing

I'ma call the whole squad and some heads gone be ringing

I'm Dope House stout, fuck a set up and no hear though

It's real talk, real breath, make it clear hoe!



[Chorus: Carolyn Rodriguez]

Throw your hood up

All my G's represent

Turn up your deck

Dope House click came to wreck



[Verse 3: SPM]

Money and the power, glass on the Prowler

Blaze up a blunt as I tell you all about it

Kill'a of the Hill'a, crawl like caterpillar

Pour a fo-fo up in my grapes as for real'a

This for my gangstas, forty-five stainless

Throw yo set up, let me see your sound language

Sell a crack rock, steal a laptop

Jack for a key and sell that bitch for half off

Rollin' with my comrades

Buddy and we all blast, everybody bought Lac's

Everybody got stacks, some of us puff Black's

Some Newports

Tap tap Too Short, even chop New York

If it ain't screwed up, I don't wanna hear it!

Lac on pancake, while I'm pourin' up the syrup

In the pen-agena, Hillwood represent'a

Home of the rock, inside a broken antenna

Motherfucker



[Verse 4: Coast]

I throw my set rounds, I been at ups and downs

Anybody plays about it, my lady has sounds

Homie from the Nawf side, and I'm all about mine

Money paper chasing stack it up, I gotta count mine

Cause I...

Was raised in a broken home, the groceries gone

Momma snorting coke to the dome, but hold the foam

She left Coast alone, I'm slowly grown

And learned how to hold the chrome, My hope is gone

Fuck being broke! C'mon

I'm fanna take ya to the spot where the homies roam

We surely don't, take no shit from nobody

So don't trip on nobody, get a clip in to body huh

This the gut of the ghetto, Catholicism is in prison

We been with our religion, where I'm leaving

We been a victim, see we ain't just suspect here

We leaving proof, that there ain't been no justice here

My hood



[Chorus]



[Verse 5: Lucky Luciano]

Came to wreck it huh!

Look up in the sky, is it a bird or a plane?

Naw Superman is arrived here to save the damn day

Fly than a pelican, leanin' of medicine

Johnny pay checks slash playa made Mexican

Theres my introduction, now let me start stunnin'

Blue and yellow diamonds on teeth, baby I'm bubblin'

Up like crack, Luck strike back

Wreckin' all this mics got my money on stack

Hold up, come dust me off pass me the weed (puffing sounds) aight

Now mix me up some zip but baby don't put too much Sprite

I'ma tip stacka, swang a big Lac'a

Watchin' Andy Milonakis in my den on big plasma

Addicted to Henne and that strip club shit

Tell them hoes of the jump I'ma pimp you dumb bitch!

Send to wreck and get a check

Turn up your deck, this dope

We iced up and priced up, and crawling in Benzos



[Verse 6: Powda]

Seven twenty fo' I be sacking them digits

Cause I'ma hustle till I die and I'm in it to win it

Making my paper independent, got seven years in it

Dope House platinum eyes, nigga that's when we finish

Man it's a dirty game but yet I shine so clean

Nigga what ever you need and puff, now holla at me

Whether I'm hustlin on the side or I'm droppin this verses

I got a service for you hoes, just watch me disperse it

And I be hurtin 'em when I pull up in a big body

They be following me, stalking like the paparazzi

So fuck a hater they just mad, they can't shine like me

I got the fifteens, ten inch reclined on screens

And I'm a fine dime piece, I be sharp as a crease

Quick to get it poppin', like water in hot grease

And it ain't nothing new, it's just the same old shit

Another day, another dollar, another case to catch



[Chorus]



[Verse 7: Rasheed]

Philly to South Park met him at Hillwood

Graduate eighty-eight, H-town we still hood

Remember me in the hustle town

I let the Mary-Go-Round put the hustle down

If yous' a Jane user

Throw your hands in the air on this track SPM is the producer

With the laws standing on the roof

Drop the flows in the booth

And drop the top on the coupe

Ain't no stoppin' the dude

My team making currency

Got 'em screaming Dope House up in Germany

Rasheed number one soldado

Puffin' on an avocado

With my foot up on the throttle

And a bottle of the Bourbon cause I swerve in the low-low

Solo, fo sho', homies gettin' more dough

Sleeping is for dreamers on the block like block

Throw your hood up, throw your hood up

Let it drop!



[Verse 8: Grimm]

A Cadillac driver, up and down the slab maine

Cousin, man is nothing but supreme in my gas tank

Tippin' on the fast lane, chuggin' on some top flight

Grindin', shinnin', blindin' like a spot light

Swangin' on them cops like Cuttie that's Graimmie

Yeah they might want us, but they won't get behind me

Now I'm doing ninety, all gas no breaks

Fucking with your boy, get your punk ass whole face

Drop you like a dope case, faster than a pony kick

Nigga beat your feet, kick some rocks with that homie shit

Most the time we loading clips

Otherwise we holding chips

Hittin' scores, kickin' doors

Pimpin' whores, rollin' whips

So we dip skunk and we slide to them Screw tapes

Pistol in the waist line, money in the suit case

Drop it in a cool place

Everything is gravity

This is for streets, cause my hood is my family

Haha



[Chorus]



[Verse 9: Quota]

You can call me Mr. Break-a- Brick, take a trip

Tape a thousand grams to the bumper, Man and make it flip

I'm an interstate veteran, pedal to the max

I see the federal for my stash, my Bereta on my lap

Cause I'ma street hustler, twenty thousand miles just this summer

Ever since the first day of June, napping on a cama

Got that Boomerang glow, once I throw it in the pot

Is coming right back I promise, dawg I'm blowing up the spot

Listen, is only me I got a million dollar corner

Feds tap my house phone and they still out of order

I'm the son of a preacher man, momma knows I'm thuggin'

And I should of been a chef the way I cook crack up your oven met

Teachers taught us “just say no”, I had to hustle though

Even that I stayed broke, didn't want to struggle so

Buy half and eight ball, hit the block runnin'

Though the world was mine, till I saw the cops coming

And it's too late



[Verse 10: Low-G]

My homie died and the cops called it drug related

I was standing right there when his mother fainted

And I felt trapped, cause I know I gotta choose fate

I grabbed my nina and made that bitch loose weight

Since eighty-eight with a nick in my tube socks

I been a G since you was tryin' to do the moonwalk

I'm from a place that they call Honduras

Nothing fake about my life except my car insurance

Bullet proof vest, my jefa sense stress

Nothing positive about me, except my piss test

I grew up in a house full of empty stomachs

While other kids was at Mcdonald's getting twenty nuggets

And I'm known all across the ghettos

Boy you think the fuckin' law, so don't pawn my huevos

My chrome spits and I know to chase hoe clicks

Nate at the club dancing with a glow sticks



[Chorus]



Throw your hood up

All my G's rep...



[Pain interrupts chorus]



[Bridge one: Pain & Cee]

[Pain:] Carolyn!

[Cee:] Yeah what?

[Pain:] Uhm ... Los said he didn't want a hook at the end of the song

[Cee:] Oh you mean one at the end of the song?

[Pain:] Yeah, everybody is already done their rap that's the whole Dope House family

[Cee:] What you mean everybody? What about mine?

[Pain:] Girl you don't know how to rap

[Cee:] Jaime, you got me fucked up!

[Pain:] Okay I'll let you try, but if Los doesn't like it I have to take you off

[Cee:] Just tell me when to come in

[Pain:] Right... right... now



[Verse 11: Carolyn Rodriguez]

I ain't gonna lie Dope House still I die

With my niggaz in the studio, chillin' getting high

Rollin' up sweets, breakin' this beat

Sippin' on skurr that slurs my speech

Comin' out the H, where they bake cakes

I ain't talkin bout the kind that your momma makes

I need a little space, Texas is the place

Ya tu sabes homes, I'ma represent my race

Move to the scene, but not to the game

Blowin' purple skunk and is fuckin' with my brain

Tryin' to stack change, up to the ceiling

Looking out the window another neighborhood killin'

When will they chill? I don't really know

Keeping my mind on a six double O

Rims dripped in chrome, and Benz dripped in paint

Just can't stop like a car with no brakes

Okay!



[Jaime:] Man you wrecked!

[Cee:] I told you foo