feat. Mr. Pookie
(Mr. Lucci)
Say hold that down lil' daddy (wussup)
ahh its nothin'
man I thought I just seen the rollahs
gon head and keep on chokin'
do you see them scopin (where)
over there wit the long
4 g's I bet I go get her
or my name ain't the wig splitta, should I naw
I'm just flossin up on the scene
let me gon and drop mo screens
nigga lets gon and splurge mo green
hop in the bourbon, poppin the ???,
rockin the curb, in my excursion on these fools
chop chop the block, then cock the glock
spread the word here comes my crew
Lucci, tre 80 set straight ain't no hate in the lone star state
while we bake the cake, then brake the plate
Them the south side playas that a ya date
cause we B-A-L-L-I-N what I'm known fo knockin down yo stone do'
wit 4 12's and my chrome tote
fuck up in the reefer smoke
when I turned the corner wit my head blown
talkin' bout my business deals and my sprint phone wit icons
if you thank you sho they hold on cause Mr. Lucci puttin in work
candy apple below the seal wit a wood wheel sittin on some skirts
(chorus repeat 2x)
When we come around the block wit the glock cocked and I scream pop
there they go, motherfucker there they go
When we comin down the lane grippin grain let 'em hang what they sayin
where they go, motherfucker where they go
(Mr. Pookie)
Bendin corners on twanky twak
wit double coated candy pain't
ducked down in my bucket seats wit a box of sweets wit a cup of drank
puff the dank all through the streets
drop the top, cock the heat, pop the trunk
pop the screens, pop the do's, point the beam
stay in front sippin lean
wit the bubblelize wit the candy queen
