Chunk Up the Deuce Lil' Keke (Ft. Paul Wall & UGK)

[Chorus: Lil Keke]
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down and boys wanna hate
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, don't make me pull out the choppa
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, I'll leave 'em on the streets dead
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, I got them diamonds in my mouth

[Verse 1: Paul Wall]
Well it's that grain gripper from Houston, Tex
That barre sipper, that barre, no plex
I'm straight up outta that Swishahouse
Where G. Dash write all the checks
So check the neck, check the wrist
I'm balla status from head to toe
My jewelry shop sell more grills than George Foreman
Baby now you know
That ain't a igloo, that's my watch
And that ain't snow, baby that's my chain
That's not a ice tray, that's my teeth
And that's not a snow cone, that's my ring
That ain't Kool-Aid up in my cup
I stay sipping that purple oil
I stay flipping the slab on fours
'Cause I'm a hustler 'til I'm in the soil
My wrist game is one of a kind
Patek Philippe worth a 100K
My work schedule out on the block
It's mash all night and grind all day
No 401K for a hustler
Just bleed the block and stack that paper
M.O.B. when it comes to hoes
And a .40 cal when it comes to haters
We authentic playas not counterfeit
Got a 600 Benz with a fog kit
Got hoes at the HK turning tricks
Outrunning the track, trying to make me rich
I'm too legit to quit, stacking up that paper 'til I'm gone
So I'ma be working wood wheel and catching splinters
Riding twenty inches or better in chrome