Four 12s - Chuck Inglish Four 12 kickers like it's 94 94 Pop the trunk on 'em Like it's duffle d**e
Keep a million units I could see to it Get the boulevard jucking Like a thick booty Uh uh uh do it Go track a rap Trapping out of the suzuki Fall back boys know exactly What I'm doing In the vera cartiers And the patrick ewings
Drop top with a chow chow puppy And my girl in a bikini top Breaking down the tuck Ah
Way she rolling coulda swear We's going bowling If I can't wear shorts Then a n**ga not going Triple gold rims not stolen Not stolen Twine got 5 cellphones on er How you want
Call me up if you want that plug If not don't trip We'll get back up Ah Uh uh uh uh uh We'll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don't trip We'll get back up I'm the coldest Stack it 'til a n**ga can't fold it Rolled in with a b**ch from beverly She said she rolling Twisting up a blunt Sprayed I got 4 And then I filled her 3 holes Like I was pullin
2 texts on my phone by the time a n**ga dipping Tripping 'cause I f**ked er My Jordan one stitching
Faded the limp one brought up On hustle and pimping These messages get ignored If it ain't about no digits What's the deal dawg I'm tryna touch a couple mill though F**k a ounce I'm tryna see how much it feel cold I'm Sam rothstein clean grab the shakers In La for months I still won't bet on the lakers
Head cracked run it back wutchu saying
Hold 'em baby sucka n**gas never playing
I'm getting head while I hit my bud I'm in her mouth and then I'm out We'll get back up Ah Uh uh uh uh uh We'll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don't trip We'll get back up I said baby girl I do drugs Smoke d**e and sell d**e B**ch I'm from dc Have the sexies off that cellphone My motherf**ker wire tapped N**ga owe me money 'cross the country Tell 'em wire that Fire that fat breezy full of tracks Loud pack only smoking killa h** Run in may season compton killa low Fly sh*t 88'ers on him such a pilot I do my own stunts Lil n**ga don't try this
My old b**ch a dove She got a new n**ga Happy for 'em both I just made a few figures Off the motherf**king trap though Walking through the front But I'm leaving through the back door Asshole Put that on the regular Rolling keisha never smoking regular Never bruh Never us Only smoke that pollside Get you high enough High enough to go salute God Ha Yea that's death n**ga
Blow a ses n**ga
Uh uh uh uh uh We'll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don't trip We'll get back up Ahh Ahh