Letras
Clap your hands to the beat, to the beat
Just clap your hands to the beat, to the beat
Come on clap your hands to the beat, to the beat
I said clap your hands to the beat, to the beat
Uh huh and you don't stop
Uh huh and you don't stop
Uh huh and you don't stop
We in this Great Lakes state
Eatin steaks 'n shrimp
It's kinda hard to miss the crew
Because we all got limps
We come equipped with new kicks and stetsons
The super saggy rags and the white trash connection
No flexin, huh, know what I mean
You can feel us fool, we don't need to be seen
It's all about the green, not the drugs we be takin
That shits free with an LP in circulation
And we be wastin time
Got them all state, all county, all hood rhymes
It's all good times, thank the lord
For dumb fuckin people and credit card fraud
We're tearin up your lawn, we got herds of Lincolns
Step into your crib and have your whole house stinkin
Don't blink and don't think we're soft
Hide your money and your gold and don't express your thoughts
We get mad props, wreck all shops
Puttin stops on crews
They get confused and lose, that's what we do
Styles stem from pioneers
Leavin suckers in awe
And you get jawed for lookin queer
Can you hear me or am I talkin to the wall
That's Top Dog callin out each and every one of y'all
You get balls, you come and talk that shit
But Top Dogs camp ain't nothin to fuck with
And don't say we didn't warn ya
I got this Detroit thang with more love that California
Drunk DJ smokin coiniac dips
Call me the sidekick, thug boy, kid with the limp
I rip through rhymes like a bullet in the breeze
And I float through tracks like a shark in the sea
A wee bit shy, but I comply by me
And I'm a mean mother fucker when I have to be
Got young g's with sleeves and thieves on hold
Strategically placed in case somebody feels bold