[Intro: Baby Beesh & South Park Mexican]
It's your boy, Baby Beesherelli mane
La Velvet clika
Representin' that yay area dogg
Down South mane, Houston, Texas mane, with my smokin' cousin
Mister S-P baby
S-P-M baby boy, South Park Mexican
With my nephew, young Happy P
Man on the track, one love
One time for that Ikie
Ikeman my boy, representin' that 7-1-3 clique mane
Houston, Texas mane
We fixin' to show you how we get down mane, check it out
[Chorus: Baby Beesh & Ikeman]
Well I come from the city of dank
Where niggas shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank
Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure
High off Khadafi mixed with blow
Well I come from, the city of drank
Where niggas chop tar, ride and drip paint
Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs
Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang
[Verse 1: Baby Beesh]
Some of you G's can't help it
We love our money green like the Boston Celtics
They felt it 'cause every saucy Chicano's down with Latino Velvet
Don't get it twisted, we got some more in case you missed it
Straight from the Buh-ay, where them niggas keep it playeristic
Now every hour, a coward is devoured
Some perkin', off the powder, some slangin' gold medal flours
Smokin' cavys in the Navi, or the four door fleetwood caddy
Geekin', while we tweekin' out smarting the puporalli
Valley jokers what I ran with
And them haters just can't stand it
They frantic cuz us hispanics
Gigantic like the Titanic nigga
Seven seas, I'm tryin' to cop seven keys
All folks with the 2-0-9's got whole ones for eleven G's
So I ain't passin' Baby Beesh all about that scrilla scratchin'
Hooked up with the Ikeman now we robbin' in Guerilla fashion
Eighteen with a bullet, we bumpin' totally insane
I'd like to praise the Mac God for showin' me the game
It's your boy, Baby Beesherelli mane
La Velvet clika
Representin' that yay area dogg
Down South mane, Houston, Texas mane, with my smokin' cousin
Mister S-P baby
S-P-M baby boy, South Park Mexican
With my nephew, young Happy P
Man on the track, one love
One time for that Ikie
Ikeman my boy, representin' that 7-1-3 clique mane
Houston, Texas mane
We fixin' to show you how we get down mane, check it out
[Chorus: Baby Beesh & Ikeman]
Well I come from the city of dank
Where niggas shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank
Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure
High off Khadafi mixed with blow
Well I come from, the city of drank
Where niggas chop tar, ride and drip paint
Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs
Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang
[Verse 1: Baby Beesh]
Some of you G's can't help it
We love our money green like the Boston Celtics
They felt it 'cause every saucy Chicano's down with Latino Velvet
Don't get it twisted, we got some more in case you missed it
Straight from the Buh-ay, where them niggas keep it playeristic
Now every hour, a coward is devoured
Some perkin', off the powder, some slangin' gold medal flours
Smokin' cavys in the Navi, or the four door fleetwood caddy
Geekin', while we tweekin' out smarting the puporalli
Valley jokers what I ran with
And them haters just can't stand it
They frantic cuz us hispanics
Gigantic like the Titanic nigga
Seven seas, I'm tryin' to cop seven keys
All folks with the 2-0-9's got whole ones for eleven G's
So I ain't passin' Baby Beesh all about that scrilla scratchin'
Hooked up with the Ikeman now we robbin' in Guerilla fashion
Eighteen with a bullet, we bumpin' totally insane
I'd like to praise the Mac God for showin' me the game
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