Bun B - The Legendary DJ Screw Songtexte

This is dedicated
To the legendary
DJ
Screw


Now once upon a time not long ago
Where they come down candy, and live life low
Where the fours stay chromey, and they grippin' on wood
And people all behave like it's all to the good
Then came a young player from the Southside streets
Who had dreams of making music, with slowed down beats
He jumped on the tables made it do what it do
And so begins the legend of DJ Screw


(Scratched) This is dedicated to the legendary DJ Screw


Jeah
Six in the morning Feds at my door
Quarter mil' on the floor, the city where everything shows
Yeah, still bang Screw, we love it mane
I know he gone, but nothing changed
Hawk, P.A.T., M.O.E. they all above us, mane
Down here he grind and hustle, mane
Can't forget Chad Butler mane
Still swang on 84's, a mirror-glass like buzzers mane
Grab the Louie duffle man, (?) still in this thing
I know my dog gone, Robert Davis, we gone do it mane


See, I love this life
This is Screwed up clique
Don't quote me, dog
You'll get screwed up quick
Still we blew one quick
My 84's they stick
On 24's we sit
You know we holdin' it, bitch
I'mma do this hit for Screw
For Hawk, for P.A.T
Even though we pushin' powder
But the trunk, be crack
C-Note reppin' SUC
R.I.P. to Jimmy T
Nigga, I'mma swang in the 'Lac
That's how it s'posed, to be




(Jeah)
One of the realest to do this shit
Used to Texas Screwed up, quick
Yeah, the tracks (?) bring it back
No one better that you can get
For my nigga Robert Davis
Chop it up, Screw my shit
Now the true representation, makin' sure the world knew this shit
Every time you think of double cups, or swangers peekin' out the boards
Freestylin' off top of dome, or grills covered in ice and gold
Dealers salute the General, point-black, no subliminal
Tell 'em we Screwed up Texas, we go (?) like a criminal


Here's a little story about a nigga like me
(?) with the cheese, nigga, SUC
South-west, H-Town, all of that's me
If a ho is cotton-mouth I wouldn't give a bitch P
I'm so Screwed up nigga say I talk slow
I say I listen fast when you niggas talk doe
And nah, I can't touch if the shit is not dro
If the drink is not purple, and the bitches no -whoa-




Dark blue Regal, on a Screw bluin' pilot
Helpin' everybody, that's what it used to with this dollars
No collars, just t-shirts and (?)
Even though he had a lot to do
He was never too busy to come and get me
I'm really Screwed-up clique, Robert L. Davis put me in
Not a friend of a friend of a friend, of a friend
I can see him spinnin' records in heaven in all white
Like he used to do on 22-34 all night


Niggas I feel that's talkin' shit
Niggas I feel that's ridin' dick
Talkin' down on the Screwed-up Clique
They must don't know who they fuckin' wit'
5-Star General of the SUC
Want my clique, gotta go through me
Go through Key, and Mike. D
Then you gotta go through Big Pokey
Who you know a nigga hard as me?
Who you nigga know is smart as me?
Niggas wanna know how hard is he
I'm hard as the Baltimore Raven's D
Betcha ain't see, like a (?) reel/real (?)
Hardest nigga I feel, with no deal, (?)
Plowin' through niggas like a snowmobile
And I make beats like a real (?)
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