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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
On I45 heading south
I'm know to floss, I'm Randy Moss
Trynna shake the haters on a paper route
Every time they see a player, I be—
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Long time comin'
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
Comin' down
Grippin' grain
So much wood in this bitch like a log cabin
5G, 26s, and they all glassin'
Four 15s knockin', got the walls crackin'
Tweeters singin' down the block, yeah, they all blastin'
H-Town is the region where the wheels long
Somethin' pretty on my side like Nia Long
Clusters pressed against the grain like Sweet Jones
Glass house blow, then the Mo, get my chief on
Sace shades low-key, get my peep on
Backwoods smokin' good 'til the leaf gone
Foes tippin' down the block, get my creep on
Hardest on the slab, and I put that on my T-Jone
If you tell me to play, I'll be
Comin' down
Drippin' drank
Comin' down
Drippin' drank