| What’s up Kutt baby? |
| it’s Paul Wall,
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| you know how we do it doin in Texas ridin on the 84's
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| why don’t you let them boys know how you do it down there in Kansas City
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| know what I’m talkin bout
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| You know I’m comin down lookin draped up and dripped out
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| 200 for the Gucci jeans iced up and chipped out
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| 150 for the tennis shoes I lace up and dip out
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| Expensive? |
| to taste, let it dissolve in your bitch mouth
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| Fresh out on em all, lookin like a tailor made
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| manikin from Harold Penn’s at the Landing Mall
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| My Kansas City fitted’s to the side cuz I’m a dog
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| Bandana out my pocket and I’m fin to blind em all
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| I’m tellin you it’s nuthin, just check out my demeanor
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| Extra crispy when I step out, I’m a walkin talkin cleaners
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| On my way up to the liquor store to purchase me a pleaser
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| Malibu, 151, pineapple juice and case of beers
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| The ride look like throw up, and niggas say it’s sick
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| I chuck the deuce when I roll up, and represent the click
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| I’m gettin down how I know brah, real heavy on a bitch
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| Me and my niggas all post up, forever on the strip with them
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| J’s on my feet feet
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| Car full of beat beat
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| Trunk full of heat
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| Caribou in the seat I got (x4)
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| Got a gorilla in my trunk, and he ain’t very happy
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| You don’t hear him tryin to get out? |
| that’s why your windows crackin
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| Old ladys on the block threaten us all but we laughin
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| Til somebody called the police, cuz niggas started cappin
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| MY POSSE’S ON PROSPECT, different location
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| Motorcadin in drops, newbies and Chevy’s on the daytons sayin
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| I come through this, whatever that you playin man
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| So many artists in look like American Band Stand
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| The sun start to get low, bustas turn to flip mode
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| Lookin out for enemies with hands on the pistols
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| It’s time to turn your shit low, and listen for the tip toes
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| Cuz Killa City’s known for makin simple threats official
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| It’s murk in the air, so we party with caution
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| You can’t be sure the Al B. when somebody is watchin
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| Til all of a sudden bells ringin, bodies are droppin
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| you think I’m crazy, this happens in my area often for them
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| J’s on my feet feet
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| Car full of beat beat
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| Trunk full of heat
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| Caribou in the seat I got (x4)
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| Lets find a place to meet up, it used to be a Jimmy’s
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| Now when niggas drunk and hungry everybody go to Denny’s
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| By the stadium, and it don’t even cost a pretty penny
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| When you get there, it’s like a party everybody in it
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| Elbow to elbow, niggas connectin tables
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| Bein loud and obnoxious yellin at all the waiters
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| And the bitch I used to fuck wit, sittin right over there
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| Now my mind’s on some fuck shit, nigga cuz I’m a player
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| Motionin and gesturin for her to meet the guest you with
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| I guess that’s when she members I’m more flyer than the rest of them
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| We dippin in the whip now, I told the hoe to sit back
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| She pullin on my zipper, pulled the skipper out and lick that
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| Made a nigga zig zag, I’m losin all my bearins
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| Bout to bubble like I’m Aaron, got a suite up at the Clarion
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| Damn shit is fucked up, before I beat the meat I need the Magnums
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| Gotta have em so I’m smashin out to grab em with the
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| J’s on my feet feet
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| Car full of beat beat
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| Trunk full of heat
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| Caribou in the seat I got (x4) |