Letras
This comin' down shit ain't dead, *****
It's The Captian
Still comin' down, *****
That's right
This how we do it, Southside shit
Yes, I'm hurtin' when I slide through
Cadillac IQ panoramic sky blue
Actin' like a boss through the Chevy
Sittin' low, perfect on the belly
Trunk knockin', and the ass sittin' heavy
That old school ready, tippin' it steady
Bitch, I'm comin' down
Southside, we comin' to run the town
Peanut butter guts covered in dookie brown
Yeah, them gas burners burnin', we smellin' like a pine
Grippin' on the lumber, killin' another summer, on God
Yeah, the Don got that motherfuckin' hard
A bad yellow broad rollin', we avoid
He a legend on the blacktop, they gotta get my card
Every time they see a player, I be—
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Got wood grain in one hand
And a cold cup in the other
With somethin' on my lap
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Paul Wall, baby
I got my trunk open and the roof cracked
It turn heads when I park the Lac, slant back, ain't nothin' wack
Screens on, watchin' the Mac
Bumper fold, but the paper stacked
Clockin' cheese like Colby Jack
In the mix, rollin' with the pack
I'm goin' live, what's up, Chat?
Haters fall back, move aside, my candy ride drip puddles
Comin' down, still on the grind
I'm baggin' up my ruffles
Never weak, got it off the muscle
I'm never too rich to hustle
Old school with a digital dash
Inside look like a space shuttle
I'm above it, that's like cream
My pillow top so soft
House of Colors with candy gloss
Make heads turn like a coin toss
Grippin' grain and comin' down