[Hook2x]
Make my.... Music for the boyz with the O's,
the old school pro's in the strip club
[Verse 1]
Every time I do it, u know just who I do it fo,
My o.g. niggaz, my gurls in the strip club,
And fa my top cats thats block cruisin',
Thats for the coops serve the rocks on the block music,
And any club, any party dont rock dis,
Im sendin my trend dawg its lean wit it, rock wit it,
And fo the projects buildings behind the locked gates,
They do wut they gotta do and hustle at a top rate,
Movin dem o's makin dey pention, we grind til we ride sittin on 24 inches,
My ghetto niggaz and bitches know how to keep it hood,
I keep it gutta im'a gangsta u know just how I do it
[Hook2x]
[Verse 2]
Im the shit u cant say im not, i keep white keep purp like a crayon box
Aay, and got a nice whipped game and I cant lie
Shit I could cook coke on a camp fire
Put it in my hands, I can make it go
If i cant move it then im'a call tony yo
I let the bullets from my gun spread
Sippin hard while u down on the corn bread
First i droppin the mix
Hit the pot like a edward and bought 8 bricks
Yup, in my white tee so u know i keep it white
And I keep green like a traffic light
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Yo pimpin', u know who it be its B.U.N to the little b
One hundred and one percent gangsta check my pedagree
Movin thru yo city like a muthafuckin mayor,
Hate on me nigga like I muthafuckin care
Im the king of the trill, got the streets in a head lock
A head busta piece so heads up I keep the lead cocked
Sellin' mo yayo than u could stuff in a bread box
And im'a keep on pushin even when the fed's flop
I represent the trill, I stand up fo the hood
Im holdin down the underground just like a nigga should
UGK and DFB we do it fo the block
Dem d boyz in the trap holdin work keepin it cocked
It dont stop
[Verse 4]
I make my music for the ones sellin' J's(servin' j's)
The bitches in the club shakin' ass fo the pay(fo the pay)
Fo the ones one the block(ten hoe) block holders
Fo the ones that'll knock ya head off ya shoulders
Thats gangsta i doin fo the thugz
And the bitches in the hood on erry type of drug
Shipped across the border from purp to the cola
I hustle spreewells like fa three ten and molderz
Pond shop niggaz, keep a couple handguns
Chopper in the trunk and they keep one in the head son
B. un is out the test u wanna test son
My motive is to kill a nigga shoot above the chest boy