The Legendary DJ Screw - Bun B, Trae, Z-Ro

This is dedicated, to the legendary

DJ Screw

Now once upon a time not long ago

Where they come down candy, and live life low

Where the fours stay chromey, and they grippin' on wood

And people all behave like it’s all to the good

Then came a young player from the Southside streets

Who had dreams of making music, with slowed down beats

He jumped on the tables made it do what it do

And so begins the legend of DJ Screw

(Scratched) This is dedicated to the legendary DJ Screw

Jeah

Six in the morning, Feds at my door

Quarter mil' on the floor, the city where everything shows

Yeah, still bang Screw, we love it mayne

I know he gone, but nothing changed

Hawk, P.A.T., M.O.E.

they all above us, mayne

Down here he grind and hustle, mayne

Can’t forget Chad Butler mayne

Still swang on 84's, a mirror-glass like buzzers mayne

Grab the Louie duffle man, S.U.C.

still in this thing

I know my dog gone, Robert Davis, we gon' do it mayne

See, I love this life

This is Screwed Up Click

Don’t quote me, dog

You’ll get screwed up quick

Still we blew one quick

My 84's, they stick

On 24's, we sit

You know we holdin' it, bitch

I’mma do this hit for Screw

For Hawk, for Pat

Even though we pushin' powder

But the trunk, be crack

R.I.P.

to Jimmy T

Nigga, I’mma swang in the 'Lac

That’s how it s’posed, to be

(Jeah)

One of the realest to do this shit

Used to Texas Screwed up, quick

Yeah, the tracks, Screw’ll bring it back

No one better that you can get

For my nigga Robert Davis

Chop it up, Screw my shit

Now the true representation, making sure the world knew this shit

Every time you think of double cups, or swangers peekin' out the boards

Freestylin' off top of dome, or grills covered in ice and gold

Dealers salute the General, point-black, no subliminal

Tell 'em we Screwed up Texas, we go fed like a criminal

Here’s a little story about a nigga like me

Fat Rat Wit Da Cheeze, nigga, S.U.C

South-west, H-Town, all of that’s me

If a ho is cotton-mouth I wouldn’t give a bitch P

I’m so Screwed up nigga say I talk slow

I say I listen fast when you niggas talk doe

And nah, I can’t touch if the shit is not dro

If the drink is not purple, and the bitches no -whoa-

Dark blue Regal, or a Screw Blue Impala

Helpin' everybody, that’s what he used to with this dollars

No collars, just t-shirts and Dickies

Even though he had a lot to do

He was never too busy to come and get me

I’m really Screwed Up Click, Robert Earl Davis put me in

Not a friend of a friend of a friend, of a friend

I can see him spinnin' records in Heaven in all white

Like he used to do on 22−34 all night

Niggas I feel that’s talkin' shit

Niggas I feel that’s ridin' dick

Talkin' down on the Screwed Up Click

They must don’t know who they fuckin' wit'

5-Star General of the S.U.C

Want my clique, gotta go through me

Go through Key, and Mike.

D

Then you gotta go through Big Pokey

Who you know a nigga hard as me?

Who you nigga know is smart as me?

Niggas wanna know how hard is he

I’m hard as the Baltimore Raven’s D

Betcha ain’t see, like a real

Hardest nigga I feel, with no deal

Plowin' through niggas like a snowmobile

And I make beats that the real can feel