[K-Roc]
|
K-Roc and Pookie bout gon and drop it crooked like we really can
|
Flossin in this bitch and go get funky bout my dividends
|
See I'm gon be tha man, wit tha plan and tha ends
|
Flossin through Dallas, Texas in tha new 2000 Benz
|
Wit some Hen, and a fat sack of Indo, my head is in tha sky
|
I'm gettin high, and wit my kinfolk, see I dont neva choke
|
Cause I been blowin almost everyday, y you askin y?
|
In Junior High, boy I been chiffin hay
|
Now I'm gettin paid and like to blow mo than I used to blow
|
I like em burnin slow, so now I'm off to get some Optimos
|
Nigga, you didnt know, jus how we doin, got yo Auntie, she pursuin
|
Yo lil sister been boo-hooin, and yo gal I been screwin
|
But I'm movin on cause I cant let my paper stop
|
And she dont want me gon, Pookie say they rollin dice blocks from mine
|
Like 2pac on Hennessey, until I pass out
|
Blowin on some green, I cant be seen, up in that glass house, Playa
|
|
Chorus [x2]
|
|
Bounce, a Southern Made Playa make tha crowd jus, Bounce
|
And cant nobody do it like we do it in tha South
|
Got everybody talkin cause they know if its clown
|
Your preferably a rival when tha crooks hit yo town
|
|
[Mr. Pookie]
|
Tired of facin' drama ya'll, watch this playa rip it
|
Wishin life was like a soccer ball, all my fools can kick it
|
Wassup wit it, K-Roc gon and get tha switches from tha track
|
Southern Made, grab tha blade, and split that bitch on down tha back
|
My reaction to tha weed is a calm cool state
|
Like a missle on tha way, I jus cant wait to detonate
|
In tha days of tha Hemingway, rollin lovely blunts
|
Who's to say I saw tha trigga spray, boy we had it krunk
|
Bout to dump, on this niggaz wit tha M1 cock
|
Quick to hit a 2 way stop, wit that 45 beam on top
|
Bodies drop, see me flexin, lil ol Texan, from tha Crook
|
North Dallas off tha hook, bound to leave them bustas shook
|
Peep and look, I stay creased, wit K-Swiss up on my feet
|
Smokin Blacks when it aint no weed, hit this blunt, oh yes indeed
|
I'ma sleep, see passion for these hoes has got cha stronger
|
She dancin and unchancin, that's cause Pookie all up on her
|
|
Chorus[x2]
|
|
[Mr. Pookie]
|
Look at cha Southern Made, Playa Laid, back in tha shade
|
Jus Tha Rippla, come to get cha, wit these blunts I'ma blaze
|
And today is jus anotha, like a muthafuckin otha
|
It's not safe stay undercover, get yo paper, fuck tha colors
|
See them bustas, and organize a lick we finsta hit
|
Quick to skeam up on this nigga, out to get that treasure shit
|
That's tha mind of a crook, jus a section in our brain
|
Where we felt like we couldnt have it, so we had to grab it man
|
Who's to blame? my conscience saw tha crooked times we livin in
|
Time to stack some dividends, I'm at tha mall wit plenty ends
|
It's me again, playa of tha year, dark and lovely
|
Makin moves on hoes that love me, gurl stay back if you scrubby
|
And yo hubby, it's best that he stay clear when I'm near
|
Cause that static, cause of fear, me and yo bitch ova hea
|
That's 4 real, so nigga stay back yo gurl has chosen
|
Dont wanna see you get yo face cracked, Pookie has spoken
|
|
Chorus [til end]
|
|
-----------------
|
Southern Made Playa
|
Mr. Pookie |