(Damn Duke, this shit wavy)
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
I got Bobby by the pint, I got Whitney by the key
I get pussy for the free, I’m having bowls by the pea, yeah
Smokin’ on this loud, I done to shake the equator
Hit the condo with my load and broke the whole elevator
N.R.G. tell Gators .223’s for these haters
Lone Star Boys, we get paper, we don’t fuck with no traitors
They thought Lil Jairmy fell off, nah, I just took a hiatus
FBI all on my dick, they know I’m a big heavyweighter
I’m still trippin’, still sippin’, I got shipments still waiting
Nigga, I come straight up out the East, went bought a mansion in Cayden
When I smile, you seen glass, when I talk, you hear cash
I got a slab up in the shop, I’m going digital on the dash, nigga
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
It’s the foreign wheel operator
Crowd to see wild, single line neat table
Spillin’ flavor, down in Texas holdin’ lots of paper
Holdin’ salt and pepper, stand, we about to shake ’em
Black and white seats, inside tuxedo
I done parked the turkey leg as I crawled Almeida
Quagen pint sealed in the front by the heater
Women loving the expense anytime the Sauce meet ’em
Swingin’ down streets, pour the Wock’ when we ride
From 288, I-10 to 45
She asked to see that and she couldn’t believe her eyes
She sucking while I drive with my syrup on her thighs
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
Swing down sweet cherry top, let me ride
Winning championships in Houston, feeling just like I’m Clyde or Hakeem
I’m a money fiend
Count it up and stack it real tall as Yao Ming
Or stack it tall as Wemby
Ain’t on me ’cause it’s in me
Cancatch me drippin’ sauce ’til the whole bottle empty
Might hit the dirty Bay with OT to count some chicken
Then it’s back to the dub
We’re them young niggas winnin’ and grinnin’
Since we talk about grinnin’, check my smile
These Marquises on my T-shirt cost more than sixty thou’
Slab movin’ like a cow, beigatin, bling-blaow
Never goin’ out of style, still got pounds of that loud
Wow, damn, uh-uh, know what I’m sayin’?
On Sauce, Jairmy man
Butter seats, chrome feet
415’s to make it beat
I’m from Texas, so a clean Cadillac I gotta keep
I might nut up in your freak
She swapped your car for plan B, Plan C
She gone leave your ass and try run off with me
288 to the South. I’m sliding through the FPT
From the North to the East
I’m serving packs to your peeps
Expensive taste, hundred dollar plates every time I eat
I caught a case, gave my lawyer 50K and it got beat
Still got pounds of exotic, fuck your plug, come shop with me
Newest drop straight from Cali
Come correct, this shit not cheap, man
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
Pounds of that Bobby, keys of that Whitney
Gallons of that DJ Screw, baby, come sip with me
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen
We third coast holdin’, pop trunk I’m controlin’
Waste a lot of money, still pockets stay swollen (done)
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