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Hey, this shit is somethin serious, boy |
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Check it out |
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(Chorus) |
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Creepin and rollin, you know what time it is |
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Oh yeah, a brother has gotta get down for his |
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(Verse 1) |
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What's happenin, my nigga, my nigga, my nigga, my nigga, my man? |
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Once again I know what you're thinkin, once again I know what your plan |
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Is, been playa-hatin a nigga like me for years |
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But now I'm changin gears |
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Fixin to move on, fixin to buy a brand-new home |
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Polishin up my chrome |
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For your ass cause I'm back up on the block |
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1994 and I ain't sellin no more rocks |
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Back with a sack and niggas know I pack |
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A glock, so stop before I put you on your back |
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Down with S-A, the place where the best play |
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Best pray if your chest ain't where your vest lay |
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Southside rollin wide-sized |
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Bitches say we high-side because we pass by |
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You don't speak, but she's just another freak |
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Cause I know my nigga been ****in her for weeks |
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And I rather not waste my time, I just mash out |
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Blowin big smoke in the glasshouse |
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Two deep, me and my nigga O.D. |
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Smokin swisher sweets comin up on Scott Street |
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(Chorus) |
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(Verse 2) |
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I deal with the five S's before every Monday |
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Shit, shower and shave, and serve on Sundays |
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And it's funny how these hoes be jockin ours |
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Because I'm rollin in a candy-blue glasshouse |
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Gold Shoes on my hoe |
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Thinkin about committin suicide cause she got fo' do's |
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And brand-new Vogues |
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And a trunk full of amps to hurt em at the soundshow |
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Breakin em off a proper piece |
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And the shit won't stop until the jockin cease |
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So follow me as I creep with my niggas on a flip |
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My cup overrunneth, so come and take a sip |
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(Chorus) |
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(Verse 3) |
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Now I got you interested |
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And everybody wanna see the man, the Peterman |
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Little kids wanna be the man |
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And grow up and **** hoes |
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And rock shows, ride Vo's, and slam mansion do's |
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Nigga, cause it's like that |
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Growin up on flat, havin dreams of livin fat |
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And I can't do it no other way |
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Doin it the southern way |
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So **** what another say |
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G to the e to the to to the o |
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To the B to the o to the y to the s's |
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Houston, Texas where niggas get restless |
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And wreckless, no easy access, don't test us |
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Nigga, recognize where the best is |
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Fool |
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Creepin, rollin, you know what time it is |
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Clownin and strollin, gotta get down for his |
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(Chorus) |
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Oh yeah |
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Doin this thing like this |
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Roll em up |
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Palms up in the air |
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Yeah, that's right |
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Let the sun hit it |
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Back for it like this, you know |
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Cause they thought I wasn't comin back |
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Still doin the same thing |
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Yeah |
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Creepin, rollin |
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You know what time it is |
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I'm just |
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Clownin, strollin |
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You know |
