Grippin’ Grain Slim Thug

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(*talking*)
Say Slim, what's the deal baby
(making this money man) uh-huh, true that true that
Check this out, it's going down over here
On the South, so I'm bout to come over
There on the North and scoop you up
We gotta put it down, boys ain't feel us in 9-9
With that Braids N' Fades, it's Y2K baby
Know I'm tal'n bout, candy coated still putting it down
Still swanging and banging ha, boys gon feel us man
Boys gon feel us, wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-what

[Hook: DeShawn Hill]
My love, have you ever seen a
Candy coated Exursion, swang and bang
Still gripping grain
(Northside man huh, Southside what)

[e.s.g.]
See I'm a wide body roller, wood grain remote controller
Blades on Escalades, electric shocks on Range Rovers
Man the game over, when me and Slim pull up
You see us flossing on chrome, with the styrofoam cup
I got a eight and a liter, swanging on the feeter
In the Bentley watching BET, I'm tripping off of Cita
Cristal margaritas, we some block bleeders
My balling tire size, can't ride in two-seaters
Man I need Excursion, or my Navigator
My big body Denali, sqauatting like a Florida Gator
Tell them playa haters, E.S.G. I don't bar
50 cash and dash, like my name was Peter Warren
I parallel parked it, ghetto starts cost to Mars
Man my rims cost more, than some boys cars
Hit the Boulevard, with the nine on my lap-lap
Southside on the map-map, Screw tape tap-tap