Lone Star Jon Connor (Ft. Bun B & GLC)

[Hook]
Down South, sittin' low
Subs, subs, in my trunk
Midwest, pimpin' hoes, twenty-six's on the truck
Put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
Put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
Parking lot pimpin' with the candy painted doors topped
Now I'm still flippin' in the 'Caddy sittin' low
I told her: Put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
Put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho

[Verse 1: Jon Connor]
Nigga, I was down South (down South)
Sittin' up in the House of Blues, chilling
I catch these hoes, I don't catch feelings
Yep, real nigga in the building
Midwest game so cold, ya'll should have knew that
Born and raised in the mitten
Thick motherfucker, I knew I had to get it
She had three kids, I paid for the sitter
Her girl came with her; part-time hater, full-time stripper
She had an ex-man, and the ho still bitter
Thought I was gonna kiss ass for the ass, how the fuck you figure?
No, wrong; I ain't gotta do all that
My nigga just came with the liquor
Shots of Ciroc get your girls on the floor
Now she got her ass on the floor right with her
Everybody drinkin', everybody faded
She ask is it good for the night, you the greatest
This how it supposed to go down now, ain't it?
Square-ass niggas got the game all tainted
Spoiling hoes that don't want a thing
Wife the hoes that don't want your ring
She run the game, she could coach the team
That's why I handle mine how it's supposed to be