How We Swang lyrics

How We Swang"[Hook:]We riding Cheves and them Lacs, on them thangsDown Souh, that's how them boys do it maynGet out of line, them thangs rainPaint change, everytime we switching lanes(from the back-back, to the front and to the sideIn the Lac-Lac with a blunt, now where the lightFrom the back-back, to the front and to the sideIn the Lac-Lac with a blunt, now where the light)[E.S.G.:]I'm back in my hood, we gripping wood we call it grainIt's the man who wrote "Wanna be a Baller", and made you "Swang & Bang"Yup E.S.G. you know my name, forty G's of in my chainMy rap sheet before the rap game, I had ki's off in my RangeMy homie left me hanging, yup he signed with PharrellThat ain't stopping shit, round here we getting this mailFor my homies in jail, like Beanie Sigel and Young PimpCome back home for black chrome, on a 300 MDodge Magnum station wagon, I done told ya sonI'm like Pac, Big and Pun all rolled in oneYup real O.G. I been that G, still got T.V.'s in m
y seatsIce the size of Chris Rock teeth, heat the size of Yao Ming feetYou can call me Shaq, the way they threw me in the crossNow my team's on top, you can't make the playoffsYup break boys off my trunk popping, baller blocking ain't money stoppingMess with me gon R.I.P., like O.D.B. or Johnny Cochran[Hook][E.S.G.:]Not Mike Jones I'm still tipping, ain't no room for Robin GivensNeed a chick that's bout her bidness, like Kimora Lee SimonsBaby this Baby Phat, baby this baby thatHot boy like Weezy, but I got Baby stacksDamon Dash cash, so mo' yay we gotta flipTill my bank account swoll up, like Jay-Z bottom lipYeah we thugging in this bitch, steady busting at my foesGot that Ruben Studdard money, it be busting out my clothesStanding tall as light poles, or a statue in the parkI'm the wizard tin man, I'm here to give you boys some heartDown here we spit it for real, icicles in my grillCandy green say I'm deuce, look like a pickle on wheelsNo American idols round here no Paula, Randy or Sim
onJust a old school Impala, rolling candy shiningIf you grinding keep grinding, cause ain't nothing in life for freeI'ma be a G-A-N-G-S-T-A, till the day I D-I-E g'eah[Hook][E.S.G.:]What you know bout groupie freaks, Gucci shoes and Gucci seatsBout my ends like Pimpin' Ken, ghetto streets to executive suitesAshton Mars and EXT's, platinum screens and DVD's28's and 23's, six T.V.'s in the SUVS.U.C. now I bet you E, spitting nothing but hits for boysBring a role of toilet paper (why), cause I'm shitting on boysUnderground bully, I ain't scared to smash it to yaThis year I'm punking rappers, you can call me Ashton KutcherBlades chopping like a butcher, they can't stand me nowCan't be like 50 Cent new album, and let my fan's downThis for my Vice Lord GD's, Bloods, Crips, Latin KingsBlacks, whites, Asians, everybody in betweenYeah that chopper to chop ya, srop toppers can't stop usCrooked coppers think they got us, so they watch us with binocularsBottle popping trunk knocking, stopping traff
ic in the LacCause I got one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight, 15's in the back g'eah[Hook]