Trae Tha Truth, Boss, Redd, Z-RO, J-Doe, Lil B - The South (S.L.A.B.ed) текст песни

(*talking*)
Yeah we back nigga, S.L.A.B
Slow Loud And Bangin' mayn, Yung Redd
My nigga Trae yeah, I’m just saying though mayn
Still the money making money, grind
Still out here, in this rap game
You niggas days is out, you know I’m tal’n bout
I’m just addressing the situation, know I’m saying
For y’all ain’t know, it is plex nigga what’s up I been through every hood, I stood on every block
But welcome to the South, partna what they talking bout
Hustled on every spot, my wheels never stop
So welcome to the South, partna what they talking bout
I been through every hood, I stood on every block
So welcome to the South, partna what they talking bout
Hustled on every spot, my wheels never stop
21 gun salute, and we clear the parking lot
It’s the corner that’s where I stay, a concrete jungle but it’s where I play
With a second to die but a minute to pray, when you in H-Town watch what you say
South Coast on down to MLK, lot of motherfuckers die everyday all day
Better walk right planning on walking our way, then you better have a conversation with the AK
Nigga fuck foreign these niggas don’t play, gangsta type niggas like Boss and
Trae
Lil B and Redd gon empty that lead, don’t matter if it’s night time or in broad
day
Rolling in a mission coming down Broadway, bout to dump on a chump 17 the hard
way
Out of respect we don’t trip on the Lord’s day, but anyday could be go to war
day
We got Crips and Bloods and clips and drugs and, sheisty ass niggas that’ll rob
they cousins
And punk police that be spitting no peace, acting like hoes all I know’ll cock
they dozens
So I ride on niggas and disquise on niggas, but always keep my eyes on niggas
I don’t wanna have to pull a five on niggas, bet the motherfuckers it’ll be a crime won’t it You could say I’m on that Kay Slay shit, I’m a motherfucking drama king
I ain’t gotta sing, bout all them guns that I’ma bring
So it seems, you niggas it’s Halloween
No gangstas just masks, I don’t know them Clover G’s naw
If you thinking I’m slipping then try, sleep with them heaters beside me Me and them killas is riding, uh-huh
Toss what you think I mean, 7−1-3 is the name of my team
This ain’t a game them nines’ll bang, it’ll rain and split your frame
Yung Redd, is still the best kept secret
You so far from the hood, this beef shit is your weakness yeah
Give respect, where respect due
Fuck what the rest do, Sucka Free I move with select few
It’s drama in any kind of whether, you better duck 'fore the heat come get ya Everybody suspect so we gon load the Mack up, with some’ing that’ll burn when
it hit ya Bitch I’ma get ya, and it ain’t no way you niggas fin to come cross my set
Assholes coming out of mother nature, with hands that’s known to wreck
Fucking with my slab and I’m known to plex, pop my trunk and I cause a mess
Four 15's and a bitch on top of the grill, I might put your shit to rest
By the way that I tip my slab, jelly slab when I flip my AVE
Whether South gon connect with the West, with nothing less then wood wheel I grab
You say you thoed but don’t make me laugh, bitch we been raw on the mic
Y’all had y’all second of fame to try to run the game, but now we bout to go on
and take flight
I’m a SK G and a leader of the wolfpack, so I’m about to get the hood back
Right where we started yep now we got the hood back, so these niggas wanna pull
back
Just like I thought you niggas ain’t built for this, the type of shit you on you get killed for this
And that’s gangsta I put it on my click, so niggas don’t get fooled you ain’t
real with this
These niggas know they good, to get dropped in the hood
Let’s get it understood, I floss with Boss and grip wood
Four deep and corner to corner, and every city to city
I bleed blocks with rocks, showing 'em no pity
I’m still that nigga, that ride or die for the Southside
You get to tripping, this wood gon ripping your mouth wide
Open and scoping, poking 'em in your brain
Yelling out A.B.N. South Klique, cause that’s the gang
Nigga I got killas from Acre Shakers, to the South-West
Sunnyside 3rd Ward, niggas’ll rip your chest
Plus I got Ridgemont 4, Mo City killas
Riding for Lil B, better go get your guerillas
You ride around, on your little ass dubs
With your little ass thugs, with your little ass mugs
With your lil' bitty guns, with your lil' bitty slugs
It’s J-Doe S-Dub-V, you heard of us When I jump on the track, with S.L.A.B. I’m murderers
Since Trae got my name hot, now they curious
But I’ve been on the block, and niggas wasn’t feeling us Ever since we pulled a three out, they see we serious
And I keep that thang with me, like my nigga Boss bang-bang
Down South nigga, sitting on 4's and we swang-swang
Down a pint smoke some dro, and still try to maintain
Born to see the the mood of Houston now, about to do my thang
Pick up ya pace better pick up ya face, Boss in the house bout to stick up the
place
Let the Glock go hick-up in ya face, nigga when the Maab step up in the place
Niggas trying to get paid from fifty states, niggas got pack for sales off the
scale
You try to stop a nigga dope sale, post my licks up in the hotel
Got a few fiends I know that won’t tell, trying to sit low with stacks of mo'
mail
Sco' by the barrell and green by the bail, cool and the cut no time for no gel
Fresh bandanas Chuck’s and pig tails, trying to find me a new trip we can bail
Gotta get paid with no time to fail, gotta flip another double whole sale