Okay, what's up H -Town? I'm in here with these boys from DEA. This is DJ Big Nuts, and I'm about to put something down here and let you all feel these DEA guys. Here they go, y 'all.
DEA, dead end, drop us in. H -Town on the map and we ain't trippin'.
DEA, dead end, drop us in. H -Town on the map and we ain't trippin'.
DEA, dead end, brought the prize. Young, comparative niggas win nationwide.
Now it's time to turn it inside out. Show this whole damn world how we punch that clock.
On the block, 11 -9 -11, my grass do grow. Pull out a little syrup for the boo and my bro.
It's a Southside thing, but it's a dead end clique. It's the flavor we bring with the screwed up shit.
In this H -Town, we smoke pines and life's a lucky breeze.
When that brick's gone without a gram, touch me, man. Peace around my neck and I paint state with it.
Some love them days, but I bose the best. The way we slide, trunk raised, and you know it's the south.
Codeine in my pocket for the hell of a couch. Get close by my side, only need me to ride. Prosecuting punk niggas that try to deny it.
DEA, dead end, representin'. H -Town on the map and we ain't trippin'.
Representin' somethin' that we do with pride. That's why we got hella love on that Southside.
Big ballin', makin' paper, stackin' ends. Flossin' through the hood and five double -O bends.
Settin' trends like when we open our mouth. Diamonds didn't agree or know what I'm talkin' bout.
Dead end, the place where I was born and raised. And from the cradle to the grave, gotta keep me paid.
Livin' late, I owe this shit out to the hood and to my partners who had my back when no one else would.
And ain't no way I could ever turn my back on a place that made me a man and always kept my pockets fat.
Packin' cats, somethin' I learned at an early age. Bout to put the gun down, grab the pen and go on, roll the page.
On stage, doin' it like it's supposed to be. Puttin' H -Town on the map, it's the PAT.
D -A, dead end representin'. H -Town on the map and we ain't trippin'.
Dead end, dead end is where the streets are closed. Pimps, players and ballers and even CEOs.
Who knows? No foes, we only spoke polo. Sip syrup, roll foes and ride five double lows.
Suppose that I take you where it's always sun. Gate jumpin', rock pumpin' and our trunks be bumpin'.
Hoes humpin' every goddamn G in the hood. Servin' fiends and trippin' beans and distrippin' our goods.
Big bang, killer dank and every player sip drinks. Every laugh and reminisce off a bullet's old range.
I think about my nigga every goddamn day.
D -A, oh by the way, it's the A -J -W -K. Some say I don't know that they envy me.
As I put on my mask and blast my three -time three. You see, we set trends and we stick to the seven.
Screwed up, servin' clubs and showin' our ass in public.
D -A, dead end representin'. H -Town on the map and we ain't trippin'.
