Bonus Track - Chris Ward

Down South Cartel baby

Put your game face on, what

Corleon, H-A-W-K, Godfather baby, C. Whodi

In H-Town, we got them cakes brah

We charge em high, out of state brah

Look at the money, we can make brah

Holla, if you need that weight brah

I had to switch the game, playas ain’t on my level

I can make a nigga, take a trip to the devil

Here in the route game, make a brick from a pebble

Like UNLB, Godfather I’m a rebel

White collared crime, look at money like Melo

Buried itself, dug a hole with a shovel

Crack I use to hustle, was the pieces to the puzzle

Killas in my yard, pits don’t wear muzzles

Win a lot of fights, get the chips like Ruffles

Potato on the nozzle, so the gun sounds muffle

Off eight balls, in the hood I juggle

Guard the sent, with Saran wrap and Snuggle

Family live around, a lot of rocks like the Rubbles

Menage tois, hit girls by the double

Wear and cock the glue, for a thirty Lex bubble

Just a mama’s boy, you don’t want no trouble

Here in my city, show motherfucking respect

Welcome to the state, called Big Ballin' Texas

Rams and pyrexes, rocks up in our necklace

Live up give up, catch one in you solo plexers

Hummers Benz and Lexus, hogging up the lane

Quarters halves and ounces, hogging up the game

A lot of thangs done changed, but I remain the same

Spitting nothing but flames, still moving cocaine

So my satisfaction, is fucking with the fraction

Addition subtraction, equals up to stacking

Homeboy you lacking, still out here jacking

H.A.W.K.

I was packing, so what’s crack-a-lacking

Freeze that lip smacking, if you ain’t paid

Or I’ll take action, rain on your parade

Put a hole in your fade, or a slug in your braids

For fucking with a nigga, that’s already made

Six ki’s on the street, packing my heat

I can’t be beat, still staying on feet

I’m back in the kitchen, whipping up another knot

Off lock down, and I’m still on my grind

I guess they ain’t heard about, them niggas in that Dirty

3rd Coast, we got that yay by the boat

It’s in Mexico, ain’t in Florida no mo'

Ain’t in California, cause down in Texas we got the dope

I told y’all, to hit us on the beep

Plant 1−5-3, where you gon get it cheaper

Coffee mug beaters, interstate bleeders

City to city head to head, dope game feeders

Twelve aimed at y’all, when I handle that raw

Hundred zippers out the brick, coldest head you ever saw

I’ma beat me a nigga, cheat me a nigga

Let them 40 Glock shells, straight up eat me a nigga

It’s C. Ward my nigga, you know the block flooder

I turn pure raw yay, into rocks of butter

The cocaine cutter, there is no other

Nigga like C. Weezie, that got nothing but love for the

Cash my nigga, trying to stack and add

To the stash my nigga, come up short

You might get brains, bashed my nigga

I’ll be all around the block

In and all about like Jumping Jack Flash my nigga

So holla heeey, like the girls

When they see me, with the yaaay

I grind all night, and all daaay

Trying to get my motherfucking paaay, now what you say

By the way I come through, in that blue pick up Lac

Dropping off twenty chicks at a time, can you pick up that

Two hours later, I’m back to pick up stacks

You don’t have it don’t worry about it, I got a hick up gat

That’ll hick-up hick-up, and make you spit up splat

Leave your jersey holy and molly, dissect your membrane

And turn your fitted, into a split up hat

And the prices are much higher, if you coming from out of state

And if you don’t spend regular, nigga you gotta wait

Cause money is time, and my time is money

If you waste that you chipping in, on my new 600 nigga what