They can bring it on, they can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

It's like this and like that, the hood got my back

Yeah, I'm makin' paper stacks, slangin' masa like crack

Got work on the ship, wouldn't fit on the train

Got searched at the border, had to put it on the plane

Now, strippers grab their coats, cause they know I make it rain

Now, feds wonder if my tamale's really clean

And my dribbles ain't good, my jump shot is sorry

But I'm NBA ballin' when I bought that Ferrari

I knock a puto out, steal his chick like Delahoya

Where I cook the pinche polla, Nick named me Chef Goya

Oh yeah, these hoes lovin' us, groupies handcuffin' us

I like the college slut, so I be a club hush

Chingle blingin' straight, yup, uh -huh, uh -huh, we certified

So much jewelry, I see them boys blurry -eyed

I'm on fire, I'm dope, I'm shittin' charcoal

Sold a hundred thousand, wear the bubblegum barcode

Now that's gold

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

And we can get it on, tell them they can bring it on

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

They can bring it on, tell them they can bring it on

And we can get it on

Gone bring it on, you know I've got my cron

ATs up in a truck that'll rumble your home

We in them projects, gettin' our grind on We in them private jets, gettin' our pride on

Assholes just stepped in the place, got my nine in my waistcase

I hate to try to hate, swank, swank is every state, every hood, every block

Nineteen years old, got fours on the drop J -Torn in my hair is now the bitches wanna bop

Seems like my cash flow ain't never gon' stop

Hit the club, hit the lot, hit the drove, smash lot

Houston, Texas, where I'm from, so you know when we up, right?

Pourin' up, jammin' screw, comin' down, candy blue

I don't get up on them chicks, I just let them chicks choose

Got a mean one -two, that'll leave your face bruised

We got all the hood behind us, so you know we can't lose

In the club, on the block, let them drop, dawg

We ain't trippin', got the game on lock

And if you trippin', then you might wanna stop, dawg

Cause it's a chance that you might get got

In the streets, we can meet, I don't mind

Twenty roll round for round like locks

And if your album comin' soon, get your back banged

Cause it's a chance that you just might get got

They can bring it on, what the fuck they waitin' on?

If they want the throne to be the truth, they gon' be waitin' on

Must be my status to make these haters get they hatin' on

Vipers on my dick, it's guaranteed they gon' get taken on

Look at me now, chingo got the bling

And I got the streets in the back of me

So that ballin' is not a fact to me

Tragedy finna strike when the light come across to me

It's too slick to do the got me right piece of chain

How many inches? Forty -two, eight

Bein' what I'm rippin', you'll find me in Harlem nights

And I ain't hard to spot, look for that dude that's covered in ice

With Crisco Kid and Kool -Aid, stoppin' game

J -Boss got him fucked to swain

Walk outside the club, release the top, and then I drop the frame

Crank up the bang until they wanna tell me move around

And if they thinkin' bout somethin', thinkin' bout 30 rhymes

And I ain't talkin' boxin', homie, please don't waste your time

You ride the line, I'm slope -linin', bankin' until the day I die