Dig these blues, homie Damn right I'm on 22s, homie
The bass hittin' so hard 11 times a week I gotta replace the fuse, homie
It's a jungle inside my ride Alligator skin is like everywhere
And me allergic to regular weed So if it ain't Kush, homie, don't put it in the ass
Yeah, I'm ridin' around and I'm gettin' it Baby, you ain't got no time to be hittin' it
And you know the limousine tint mean Mind your, mind your, mind your business
That candy paint so black look like a licorice stick
He outside of a Bentley in his house shoes What type of, type of is this?
The type that done put swingers on a caravan Yes, I am that man
Put my name in the grill and my name on all the swingers Too straight like that, man
My arms stronger than from liftin' Lambo doors, homie
You know you're ballin' when you start buyin' cars to match your clothes
Got a stash spot for that good grass Got a stash spot for that work, too
I'ma start a phone field to the rim, my n***a You make me spill it, I'ma hurt you, huh
Screw the click until I can't say it no more And I know the DJ gon' play this
Until he can't play it no more
I'm comin' down, makin' noise, candy paint On all my toys, grippin' woods, sippin' good
What you know about it boy?
What you know about it boy?
What you know about it boy?
I'm comin' down, makin' noise, candy paint On all my toys, grippin' woods, sippin' good
What you know about it boy?
What you know about it boy?
What you know about it boy?
They let me ride, still riding down them blocks, can't speed through
Going through my mind, making sure they see you
Trued up and I'm lued up, that's crew stuff in my new cup
My top down, my music loud, and I only listen to Tushar
PMC and Bun B, cause them all are my OG
Ball so hard, this s*** crazy, you can call me Kobe
PM so hard, your beer pay me
She must have thought that I was Goldie
I'm staying out, I ain't been a goalie
And when I'm coming down, I'm touching the whole street
Coming down like a sales price, on them foes
Lights on, trunk open, serves all those
Searching for that dope, eyes open for that paper
Candy apple over silver, holding like a stake
Bold ties, only anything else is blasphemy
Breaking boys off, add them to my list of casualties
Vaping wax slabs in the slab with that Mr. Fab
Pow wow, baby paint dripping like a dab
I'm coming down, making noise
Candy paint on all my toys
Gripping wool, sipping good
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
Coming down, making noise
Candy paint on all my toys
Gripping wool, sipping good
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
And how them boys be flexing
Right next to them Mexicans
Say big bankroll checking
Ripping for my city
So all my cars pretty
And all my broads pretty
I got some up in your city
That go dumber for my dude
Every time I touch down
By the way, I got a package
It just touched down
We smoking Bay Hill
Where I stay gone on with that homegrown
I stay smoking like Cheech and Chong
Trippy stick got it blown
Bad, bad, rolling with me
Must ain't got no panties on
So fat, I can't see a thong
Bay chick got me sprung
Send me hella drink
I fell in love when she gave me the plug on the paint
I can't leave her
I need her
I treat her
Like she a queen
Gotta keep baby on team
Gotta keep making this green
Killing boys and them loaves
And I'm a ghost rider
Slap and walk next to my foes
Bang!
Coming down, making noise
Candy paint on all my toys
Gripping wool, sipping good
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
Coming down, making noise
Candy paint on all my toys
Gripping wool, sipping good
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
What you know about it, boy?
Trill OG, Bun B
Straight up out that TEX
On that Southern swag
So you know you gots to see me next
Candy paint and all that
Smoking on a ball bat
Riding in the saddle, boy
But I don't wear no tall hat
New era's a snapbacks
Not them ten gallons
And I don't ride on a horse
But I might come through with a stallion
That denim with no chaps
Just gangsta ass raps
With my nephew, Mr. Fabby
You know how we make it slaps
Give me that
Make it good, mate
When I'm in your hood, mate
Riding in that Cadillac
And gripping on that wood grain
Make it understood
Playing it simple if you're slow
And if you come from the ghetto, player
You already know
Keeping G from head to toe
If I'm lying, man, he strike me
And if you didn't hate me
Maybe you could do it like me
It's UGK for life
I'm riding for that chance
When you see a player shining
Show him love, he acting bad
Hold up
