[Intro]
Drama, n***a
Bring it on
Throwed in the South
Wassup, Pop?
Wassup, Robin Street?
Wassup, D.E.A.?
Ain't no set trippin, it's all about that paper
I'm in here tonight with Ron G
Some players outta Austin
E.S.G off lock
HAWK
And the Southside Crew
We gon' show you how we do it

[Verse 1: Big Hawk]
Now this for all my arch-rivals that be knockin' me
Listen close and feel the quote of the MJG
Cause y'all motherfuckers finna feel the South
Exercise my freedom of speech and then I open my mouth
Start spittin' hard lyrics that massage the brain
This the East and the West, it's the Southside thing
H-Town, H-Town, watch me gon' head and clown
No ordinary vocabulary, a legend in writin' down
Pimp the pen and the mint, writin' platinum shit
Witness this lost conglomerate, call 'em Screwed Up Click
This ain't a war and I done told ya
Whirl and now it's over, DJ Screw is the general with an entourage of soldiers
I follow in the footsteps of 2Pac Shakur
Be a rap game genius, music entrepreneur
Connoisseur, with these debonair lyrics I lure
Paper stacks and contracts that want my signature
Ain't afraid to touch myself like that girl T-Boz
Havin' childhood street dreams reminiscent of Nas
I'm a [??]? hell nah, I'm accomplishing dreams
Devising plots and schemes in order to increase my cream
It may seem that it's taking a little longer than expected
But my savvy grows stronger and my flows get more hectic
Resurrected my pen and pad from my high school days
Cause only in this rap game will it pay like you weigh

[Interlude: E.S.G.]
Man
You boys out there don't know who that was?
That was that goddamn Big Hawk
Representing that D.E.A
Man, you know what I'm saying, we ain't just talking about popping this, doing this
N***a
You heard that boy words, that vocabulary
Shit, n***a, we on some throwed shit
This that black-hearted, D.E.A., Botany Big Shots
Man it's all called Screwed Up Entertainment, you know what I'm saying?
And to all the n***as that was down that ain't down
Y'all can eat a fat dick, know what I'm talkin' bout? Check it out
Uhh
I'm in here with that four, that boy Big Dave, Poppa, Big Trizzoy
Know what I'm talkin' about
Check it out


[Verse 2: E.S.G]
It’s goin’ down, fuck all these botany freaks
These n***as actin’ bad on that damn Robin Street
It’s the E to the S, you know I’m smokin’ on the killa
Now let me break it down for all my real n***as
Flip the Remi can’t you see me, n***a, bout to grip my cup
At the club know it ain’t no love these young ass thugs picking out them bucks
Bout to take they fuckin truck, they Lexus, or they old-school
You can run like Michael Johnson n***a be dumpin’ for your gold shoes
[??] paid my dues, shife fools gon’ try to be heroes
Best retreat cause we bring the heat, like Pacino and De Niro
Cemetery full of my cousins, them loved ones got lost in
This all what it cost to be the boss that’s why nowadays I thug with caution
Still be cold, I’m on parole, they hopin’ I violate
Give influence to a murder n***a when you buy my tapes
Try to relate and concentrate, comprehend the way I spin the words
Break down my nouns like the quarter pound, adjectives, metaphors and verbs
Fuck what ya heard, just let me serve
Pounds of herb like they hors d'oeuvres
Have ya all up on the curb, from section 8 to the suburbs
Can I touch nerve, the truck swerve, until it sees a jacker
Come out the top lookin’ sharp with a Glock and watch me subtract ya
Automatic mathematics take the breath out them busters
Down them killas, down them dealers, almost left out them hustlers
Ready to mob, do the job we some real busy players
Thug nation occupation we some mill ticket chasers
At the rallies wanna raid us, now I’m bored of haters
Went to jail if I shot ya down, smell like a pound of some start up gator, shit
It’s goin’ down, I’m bout to knock that roof off
Back in the day, smokin’ big Bay, man, k we knocked the deuce off
Now I’m crunk, baby boy, with more shit than the safe
And now I’m mobbin’ with the Screwed Up and D.E.A
So if you ain’t down bitch, you best not trip
Cause a n***a might put a slug on them big ass lips
[Verse 3: Big Hawk]
I got dollars on my mind, to battle inflation
A project livin’ thug with a college education
I done sailed the Atlantic, swam the Pacific
Sold a bird in Egypt, drew it up in hieroglyphics
Be specific, I still sip syrup and slang cheese
I even heard my flows being said in Chinese
N***a please, I’m real, I used to be mannish
My tongue flippin’ so fast you think that Hawk is speaking Spanish
God damn it, can’t stand it, can’t handle it
I ride and reside with the Draped and Dripped Bandit
Properly demand it, out in many states
While I’m doing shows I’m also movin’ weight
Must demonstrate, never giving up hope
I’m writing throwed lyrics and still moving my throat
I met the Pope, while doing a serving
NFL highlights gotta catch some Chris Berman
Money earning, still yearning
A punisher, a bruiser
Got 20 inch blades on a black Land Cruiser
Drug abuser, I take it straight to the head
I support my own heritage shouldn’t shit be said
Infrared I tote, always gonna smoke
This is one fuckin’ n***a you should not provoke
My horoscope read that I must cope
Keep my head above the water try to stay afloat
Cause I’m a big bad actor, big paper stacker
Took the blades off the diesel and I put ‘em on the tractor
Major factor in this rap game race
And if you want some of me come on and get a taste
[Interlude]
Reason to rhyme, n***a
All night long
It pays, know what I’m saying?
You wanna speak Ron?
Let these n***as know streets ain’t nothing to play with
It’s money off in this here thing, man
But my reason to rhyme?

[Verse 3: E.S.G.]
Shit, my reason for crime, is only satisfaction
I’m laid back, sippin’ drank, bout to hit that bud action (Uhhh)
Trade in our MACs to get some brand new ones
Don’t fuck with the fake, I only fuck with true ones
Y’all can see us, big Benz, we probably be flossin’
Shorty Mac strapped with the MAC, that boy straight outta Austin
I’m doin’ shows, fuckin’ hoes
You know we’re down to ball
Got one next month, yeah, probably Lake Charles
I’m gonna wreck em, player, don’t give a fuck about them busters
What about last month, hit the ring with Chris Tucker?
Got crunk smokin’ on sticks, n***as down to drop them bricks
Now these n***as talking that shit, but they still on my dick
You wanna try-y, n***a?
See y’all ain’t hearin’ me
‘Til the day I die, down with K-A-Y on lock for conspiracy
So feel me, the E to the S, and we gon’ just blow up
Shit, a n***a full of that drank so I gots to hold up
Don’t wanna fall off that flow
So me and Big Hawk bout to step out the door
In case you didn’t know, we breaking boys off
So n***as recognize, man, we ain’t never comin’ soft, n***a
We always hard

[Verse 4: Big Hawk]
Sit back and watch me orchestrate
Continue to dictate
On those who violate, hate and perpetrate
Sip barre, superstar, 20s on foreign car
Too hard to figure out like algebra
How far do you want me to take it?
Smiles and frowns, talking down
Saying I ain’t gon make it?
But as hard as it seems, I’m accomplishing dreams
Devising plots and schemes in order to increase my cream
Triple beams, Pyrex, and warm water
The cheese is harder, gon’ ‘head place your order
A ounce and a quarter is all it takes to pay the bills
And all of my orders change my thousands into mills, for real


[Outro]
We outtie
Like 9000
For the 97
Ron, wassup?