Celebrate the Line

Celebrate the line, shine, bitch, I ain't lying

Making bread, hoes on deck, it goes down

Candy on slab, got them haters on frown

No matter how it go, it's going down, celebrate the line

Red and blue, I'm banging Screw (banging)

Burgundies and candy greens

Purple Swerver, Silver Surfer (Hover)

All the slabs is on the scene

Check me out, they know it's woodgrain steering, top disappearing

Yeah, they celebrating the line, I can hear the crowd cheering

Riding one deep, the slab private

All leather cockpit, nigga, I'm a pilot

Fours on that thang, that's the only way I drive it (only way)

Old school, brand new motor, my shit quiet (shh)

Four in the Snapple, the 'Lac all apple

Wide frame sitting in the lane like a tractor

Paul Wall, baby

Riding down Memorial, flyer than a oriole

The H-Town orator giving pie chart tutorials

It's quite historical the way I wear wood wheels

Shout out to the Blade Line and solo two trill

Poppa in that green thing, ten cars deep

And right behind them is the kill line hogging the street

I'm Black Top, TV candy ready

Call the queen shooter, tell her have that camera ready

'Cause I'm comin' down

Great state of Texas, where the sun shine brighter (uh)

Slab wood catching flames from Cartier lighters (uh)

Fresh fly nigga, everything I ride clean

Finest vines all the time, yeah, I think I'm the king (uh)

Slow like codeine when I creep up on the scene

Sitting on lean, shotgun is my queen

You know me, always in something you've never seen

Waiting to wake up, this shit feeling like a dream (yeah)

Okay, okay, okay

I'm riding slow, lock and load, when Pro come through, just hide ya ho

Kicking game, catch a nigga balling like a soccer goal

Diamonds froze, oh, they five below, I eat like Pappadeaux

Pull up, have 'em hypnotized, but nah, I ain't Big Poppa though

I'm H-Town, Southside nigga, see I'm like Hawk and Poke

I'm from the land where wet paint drip, this shit like Mop & Glo