(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 4x)
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
