(feat. Paul Wall) [Intro: J.R. Writer] uhh chyea dipset, swisha house my man paul wall, jr writers definitely in the building yall lets bounce, bounce [Verse 1: J.R. Writer] im from the party to the lobby to the lobby with the pump listen papi u aint gotti get the shotty if u stunt masserati in the front, i aint shoot a nigga but off one button i could put the body in the trunk theres a body in the trunk, big body with the fronts stitches to the face, dont even (polly) on the blunt i hit mami if i want, cuz she aint seen a 6-4 so she just loves the impally when they jump ima heave em to the con, fill his heater if u want u'll be able to see, wat chu be eatin for a month i (will steamers) to get launched, of me n paul wall drag u up and down florida and leave u in the swamp im a hustla homie, with some bigger funds, some bigger guns i pull em out, shit kids'll run, get rid of somethin they kid is done, thats just for fun in a mayback, to the bay shack, better lay back 'fore i spray that, that 6 figure nigga want [Chorus x2: Both] stackin paper, we breakin bread we gettin money, til the day we dead its the swisha house and the dipset this is history in the making, baby thats a bet [Verse 2: Paul Wall] live from the swisha house, straight up outta that 3rd coast pop seal, hold a 4, sip a drank, lets take a toast im on my grind and on my note, im breakin bread and chasing hoes evading laws n tippin 4s, this is the playa life that i chose stack cheese, count cash, bad bitch, big ass paul wall and jr writer, gettin for that puff puff pass drip the candy, pop the trunk, drop some greens and ride that choppers bang and screw in a parkin lot, with (michael watch) catchin all the boppers on top of my game my eyes are peeled im on the block im posted up on south (leave) with cabbage head we watchin the laws in a poster truck got drank then pour it up, got dank then blow it up got plicks i got the pump, wat it do, thats wats up i keep a bodyguard by my waste, .40 cal thats my pal fuck a girlfriend, pack a compact plastic glock, thats my gal swisha house we slow it down, in h town we hold it down with 2 commas in my bank account, u best believe this shit go down [Chorus x2] [Verse 3: J.R. Writer] u lookin at the get it getters, bigger figures hitters niggas im just a pimp gave the fox (make u city slickers) we some city slickers, sticky hitters, stick ya sister fly to harlem, come to ball with some fifty-fifers [Paul Wall:] ballin is a habit baby, big body with big wheels pocket of them ben franklins and pale full of big bills my paper game is top notch, my hustle game is top notch my ice game is top notch, check ya mouth check ya watch [J.R. Writer:] yao you rockin with the livest, hoe. im vamanos, stay addios flip pie, trick n fly, this the guy from stop n go whip and (trough) stay ridin low, i aint a liar liar swear im on fire at the dealer, hot drop n roll [Paul Wall:] we keep it pimpin pimpin, we stackin paper baby ridin shotgun with a shotgun, in a cls mercedes jr writer and paul wall, swang the fear, pour (a litre) good hustlas, gettin money, we certified young block (breeders) [Chorus x2]
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Copy to Clipboard: (feat. Paul Wall) [Intro: J.R. Writer] uhh chyea dipset, swisha house my man paul wall, jr writers definitely in the building yall lets bounce, bounce [Verse 1: J.R. Writer] im from the party to the lobby to the lobby with the pump listen papi u aint gotti get the shotty if u stunt masserati in the front, i aint shoot a nigga but off one button i could put the body in the trunk theres a body in the trunk, big body with the fronts stitches to the face, dont even (polly) on the blunt i hit mami if i want, cuz she aint seen a 6-4 so she just loves the impally when they jump ima heave em to the con, fill his heater if u want u'll be able to see, wat chu be eatin for a month i (will steamers) to get launched, of me n paul wall drag u up and down florida and leave u in the swamp im a hustla homie, with some bigger funds, some bigger guns i pull em out, shit kids'll run, get rid of somethin they kid is done, thats just for fun in a mayback, to the bay shack, better lay back 'fore i spray that, that 6 figure nigga want [Chorus x2: Both] stackin paper, we breakin bread we gettin money, til the day we dead its the swisha house and the dipset this is history in the making, baby thats a bet [Verse 2: Paul Wall] live from the swisha house, straight up outta that 3rd coast pop seal, hold a 4, sip a drank, lets take a toast im on my grind and on my note, im breakin bread and chasing hoes evading laws n tippin 4s, this is the playa life that i chose stack cheese, count cash, bad bitch, big ass paul wall and jr writer, gettin for that puff puff pass drip the candy, pop the trunk, drop some greens and ride that choppers bang and screw in a parkin lot, with (michael watch) catchin all the boppers on top of my game my eyes are peeled im on the block im posted up on south (leave) with cabbage head we watchin the laws in a poster truck got drank then pour it up, got dank then blow it up got plicks i got the pump, wat it do, thats wats up i keep a bodyguard by my waste, .40 cal thats my pal fuck a girlfriend, pack a compact plastic glock, thats my gal swisha house we slow it down, in h town we hold it down with 2 commas in my bank account, u best believe this shit go down [Chorus x2] [Verse 3: J.R. Writer] u lookin at the get it getters, bigger figures hitters niggas im just a pimp gave the fox (make u city slickers) we some city slickers, sticky hitters, stick ya sister fly to harlem, come to ball with some fifty-fifers [Paul Wall:] ballin is a habit baby, big body with big wheels pocket of them ben franklins and pale full of big bills my paper game is top notch, my hustle game is top notch my ice game is top notch, check ya mouth check ya watch [J.R. Writer:] yao you rockin with the livest, hoe. im vamanos, stay addios flip pie, trick n fly, this the guy from stop n go whip and (trough) stay ridin low, i aint a liar liar swear im on fire at the dealer, hot drop n roll [Paul Wall:] we keep it pimpin pimpin, we stackin paper baby ridin shotgun with a shotgun, in a cls mercedes jr writer and paul wall, swang the fear, pour (a litre) good hustlas, gettin money, we certified young block (breeders) [Chorus x2]
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