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Correct We Ain't Trippin' No Mo Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: E
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E.S.G. & Slim Thug
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Correct We Ain't Trippin' No Mo
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Lyrics:
(feat. Z-Ro) [Hook:] Too many haters, still try to take me off of my game See a young playa gripping wood Looking good hold up, man we off the chain See us coming down, and we're holding It's the Z-Ro, Slim Thug and E. S. G. We don't give a damn about none of these hoes We all about our do', we ain't tripping no mo' [E. S. G.] Armed and dangerous, wanna spit them flows Swang with us, if you wanna sit low The game of life be shife, better think twice Aren't they nice, get killed hoe For real though, kick your ass with a steel toe What can I say, you niggas gay you need a deal though Work my wheels so, twenty three minutes from your town Udaville hoe, 23 inches from the ground Hold up now look around, playboy you don't want no drama Off the chain and untamed, orangatangs out the jungle Make the loudest nigga mumble, baller blockers can't stop this Wanna throw me out the game, like my name Rasheed Wallace Hold up, blow the whistle that's a tech We got home court advantage, this year we bout to wreck Hit up nigga sets, snap they neck Take to the chest, trying to fuck with the best Invisible set, baguettes, Rolex when I flex in the Lex with the big S-S Now who's next, you gon understand it Back in the tour van, with Jennifer Lopez panties in my hand ha [Hook:] [Z-Ro] Z-Ro the Mo City Don, bigger my bricks and profits It's evident that I'm a President to the game, you can't baller block it You can't block my ball, when I get a flick a screen gon fall Give me fo' corners, and I punish em all Never gon fall off, when I haul off in the L dog My block my bread and butter, keeping my pockets nice and thick Whether be solid or whether be soft, the game ain't never been known to quit We went from riches to rags, rags to riches, while maintaining Composure rock and witness these fellas, as they was switching Investing in plenty bars and stocks, still got money coming out the block I scheme to plot to the cream of the crop, fuck a bitch we gon leave a bald spot They trying to take me off my game, wanna see me not having thangs Mo City Texas Ridegmont mayn, killa codeine and mary jane Over the plate it's time to bat, it's out of the park I told you that Lucky Al Gore couldn't hold it back, now I gotta calm down with a doja sack Z-Ro, Slim Thug and E. S. G., we in it to win Mechanical gorgeous everytime our records spin, Mr. Hater [Hook:] [Slim Thug] I feel like in real life, they thinking I'm Santa Clause I hide from mo' hoes and mo' foes, than I hide from the laws They in my face with no pause, steady trying to make a G fall Like Tupac fuck all y'all, cause I need my cash tall Trying to hate on mine you outta line, I shine because I grind I keep that money up on my mind, for the umpteenth time When I write a rhyme I rhyme real, and getting green is what I feel A five figga nigga that want a mill, before my record deal Still trying to get it, I hustle and can't quit it My target in range, is up to me to aim and hit it Boy forget it, if you think I'm falling off of my game You off the chain, you must of fell and lost your brain I maintain and look good, and grip wood through my hood Fuck a hoe I'm bout my do', let's keep it understood While these haters falling off, I'ma be falling in Big falling in the Benz, solo fuck friends cause uh [Hook:]
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