Freeway: (Intro) Free! Paul Wall! And we coming with the bump bump buuum! Early! Yeah! Uh! It's The Roc, Swishahouse and we Dumping on y'all hating ass niggas And we hit yall with the Bump Bump buuum Early! Uh! Yeah! Uh! Y'all better keep your weapons close It's Philly and Paul Wall And this is the way we ball bring the raw To your city got them semis If you really want war We gon bring it to your doorstep Vests and them hoodies And we pop pop pop Through your body Put the rest in your fitted And this is the way you fall to the ground An' you shaking nigga State prop cock game and we gun a hater down And we take a hater's pounds And we sell a hater's bricks And we the main reason why they chicks is not around Somebody tell them that they're roc' in Houston Swishahouse got that knock in Houston we come and lock shit down Chorus: Real niggas stand up point em we gon gun 'em haters down come around you hear that... And all my real bitches step up come to wipe a player down smoke a pound with him Real niggas step up we gon gun 'em haters down come around you hear that... And all my real bitches step up come to wipe a player down smoke a pound with him Paul Wall: I hear these haters talking seem like they're getting louder These sweet cupcakes softer than some clam chowder I'm from the city of powder, syrup and crack rocks? For twenty dollars get you higher than an astronaut I keep a Glock in my state prop jeans Floating on cloud nine goin' off cold dean I chuck a deuce to a hater I'm on a mission for paper I got lew hawk with me serving dope fiends like a waiter I'm on the south lee with my boy Big bank take little bank baby tell me what it do These boys talking loud but they ain't saying a thang But Paul Wall and Freeway will make 'em sang Chorus It's the Swishahouse state prop chain gang .45 cal big Glock bang bang I keep the tupperware tucked in my underwear Rain down thunder on these suckers make the clutter clear Let's get one thing clear I run with grizzly bears Bite you in your back and make you straighten out your chest hair I'm 100 baby no time for playing games I got a garden full of carats hanging in my chain I keep a player bought my paper fuck a hater Cause the real turn fake switching over like a crossfader I'm squashing chatter climbing up the ladder Cause my goal is to make my pockets fatter baby Paul Wall Chorus Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com