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keep it gangsta - s.l.a.b. lyrics

(-talking-)
southside (southside), we keep it gangsta
keep it gangsta, northside (northside)
keep it gangsta, what-what-what
keep it gangsta, what

[h.a.w.k.]
i’m not on the squad player, i’m on the squd n-gga
quick to pull a trigger, and i’m raw like jigga
how the h-ll you figga, you could step to a gangsta
i shank ya spank ya, and won’t even thank ya
i’m on the cut, t-shirt and black chuck’s
selling clucks for bucks, hitting hard like numchucks
i fill gaps like chaps, with these hardcore raps
and blacks whites and j-ps, all give me dap
you’ll never catch me stalking, or doing too much talking
when i might keep it gangsta, and start to crip walking
my dogs start to barking, cause they ready to scratch
i release the latch, watch my k!llers attack
now fire up a fat strack, if you wanna do it
but don’t jump naked, on embalming fluid
n-gga stay true to it, if you take that chance
and my gangstas, won’t you do your dance

[trae]
thug living i’m bonified, and running with mob ties
n-ggas knew i was on the rise, pulling stunts like fog eye
fore the green we mashing, while we colliding for the south
and if you hating close your mouth, cause i’m gon ride for the house
i got thugs on every block, with a glock that stay c-cked
in a land of hard knocks, so we known for bleeding blocks
and n-ggas be hating me, and making my pressure rise
because i’m bubble eyes, on a gs customized
we interstate weight gliders, from h-town to nevada
going off like rotweilers, and pitbull fight scholars
throwing bows like roy jones, while bleeding with every zone
and even hear a tune, that’ll make a bad b-tch sing along
like my name was dru hill, keeping it known that i got sk!lls
when it’s time for me to drop, then we gon straight up make a mill
for real it’s like that, the trae gon squash that
so when it’s time to plex, then we gon straight up break backs

[lil’ b]
i’m a young -ss n-gga, that’s always down for whatever
shooting slugs through your sweater, my n-gga i’m bout my cheddar
together cause we united, don’t bite it because it’s venom
starched jeans that’s denim, 600’s we in em
and filming these hoes on video, acting seditty though
when all they want, is a n-gga to take em home or to the mo’
freak hoes, you ain’t getting sh-t
keep my screens lit, sideways watching fl!cks
admit that i’m a g, lil’ b from h.c
tipping down fewquay, with trae and lil’ t
we be some young playas, big bodies we valeters
poetry rhyme sayers, sipping drank with the mayor
pay’a close attention, weak n-ggas flinching
step in the kitchen, i’m s.l.a.b. representing
and gritting my t–th, my pressure’s reached it’s peek
and to you hoes talking down, i’ll sweep you off your feet

[keep money]
now bounce-bounce to this, when you hear it in your city
while motherf-ckers levitating, we leaving boys sh-tty
trying to get a ticket, while on our way to the top
steady crawling and balling, you know we can’t stop
one touch and recline the top, home of s-l-k
and no inches up under 20, we consider them by the way
3rd coast the bay, down south we ain’t tripping
pop a clip in while sipping, on a money making mission
game tight with precision, trigger finger steady itching
while time keep on ticking, we in the kitchen forking chickens
these boys they finna listen, we ain’t playing with this game
so pop a tape in your deck, and go on do your thang

[big dex]
i’m in your eardrum like b-ss mantliss, i got bad habits
from smoking weed, to popping tablets
get out of line, you’ll come up missing like the florida baddest
i put n-ggas in death beds, then fire cabinets
you got a nine playboy, then you better grab it
i’m serving n-ggas like fiends, i gotta let em have it
i got ak’s and glocks, all automatics
that have your face on a carton, that say missionary b-st-rd
don’t get me wrong, i see right through you like judge mathis
that’s why i have to wet your shirt, like a water mattress
like elmer fudd, i got a sock i aim at you rabbits
and i be spraying out pellets, like deodorant arid
i got spice on my shirt, for slap a b-tch n-gga merrets
i put a regal round your neck, like i propose a marriage
and i ain’t talking to you b-tch, but if the shoe fit wear it
and that’s what happened to them n-ggas, that talking like paris i let em have it

[jay’ton]
i’m only 15, and love to county my green
you see the b-tches wanna ride, cause they love my screens
and keeping n-ggas on the run, cause they hate my beam
i got twenty five n-ggas, running on my team
it’s jay’ton the young one, that’s all about stacking cash
fast on the gas, for the grind i gotta mash
you feel what i’m saying mayn, we southside thug n-ggas
that’s down to pull triggers, and all about stacking figgas

[dougie d]
i’m a 3rd coast wrecker, h-town slab rider
you can catch me crawling, and dropping the top on the prowler
prolly even see me in a houda
one thang fa sho, i gotta keep em moving like menuda
it’s the dougie the daddy, i be known for stacking dollas
chunking the deuce up to my n-ggas, and b-tches and partnas
down in the dirty south, is where motherf-ckers’ll find us
keeping em crunk shocking and rocking, and moving they body
now what it is about texas, you wanna know about
don’t be mislead, ain’t all bout horses and dip in our mouth
we sip on drank, with fat blunts puffing smoke out our mouth
and this the way we keep it crunk, up on my side of town it’s going down

- s l a b lyrics

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