City of Dank

It's your boy, Baby Beesherelli mane

La Velvet clika

Representin' that yay area dogg

Down South mane, Houston, Texas mane, with my smokin' cousin

Mister S-P baby

S-P-M baby boy, South Park Mexican

With my nephew, young Happy P

Man on the track, one love

One time for that Ikie

Ikeman my boy, representin' that 7-1-3 clique mane

Houston, Texas mane

We fixin' to show you how we get down mane, check it out

Well I come from the city of dank

Where **** shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank

Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure

High off Khadafi mixed with blow

Well I come from, the city of drank

Where **** chop tar, ride and drip paint

Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs

Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang

Some of you G's can't help it

We love our money green like the Boston Celtics

They felt it 'cause every saucy Chicano's down with Latino Velvet

Don't get it twisted, we got some more in case you missed it

Straight from the Buh-ay, where them **** keep it playeristic

Now every hour, a coward is devoured

Some perkin', off the powder, some slangin' gold medal flours

Smokin' cavys in the Navi, or the four door fleetwood caddy

Geekin', while we tweekin' out smarting the puporalli

Valley jokers what I ran with

And them haters just can't stand it

They frantic cuz us hispanics

Gigantic like the Titanic ****

Seven seas, I'm tryin' to cop seven keys

All folks with the 2-0-9's got whole ones for eleven G's

So I ain't passin' Baby Beesh all about that scrilla scratchin'

Hooked up with the Ikeman now we robbin' in Guerilla fashion

Eighteen with a bullet, we bumpin' totally insane

I'd like to praise the Mac God for showin' me the game

Well I come from the city of dank

Where **** shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank

Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure

High off Khadafi mixed with blow

Well I come from, the city of drank

Where **** chop tar, ride and drip paint

Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs

Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang

Off the top, all us realas double R we goin' hard

Down South we set the bar, smokin' 'dro up in the car

Foreign cars we send low, bout my fetty and the dough

For those that don't know it's three and a quarter for a bowl

Lime green lil' apartment, kind that make you wanna rhyme

Pero, dollar shine, it takes time to make 'em blind

I'm on the grind to go and get

I got my gangsta ready to spit

I-K-E about my digits

Feds want me cuz I did it

I done flipped it into green, with my cousin' Lil' Bing

We be hoggin' up the scene with our mugs on mean

7-1-3, we coldest, from the jump they can't hold us

Got the bricks, got the boulders, let the World know it's over

I-K-E and S-P-M, and that Mexican Baby Bash

Down to make major cash from the bay to seven one tre

That's how we do it like some G's

Makin' money from these ki's

Every block we touch bleeds

About to put this game on freeze

Well I come from the city of dank

Where **** shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank

Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure

High off Khadafi mixed with blow

Well I come from, the city of drank

Where **** chop tar, ride and drip paint

Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs

Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang

Cognac sipper, born to crack flipper

Jugglin' hoes like my boy Jack Tripper

Glass slippers, on my smoke ray 'Lac

I was broke way back, walkin' down a train track

Mary Jane sacks gave my ass a brain lapse

Insane raps ridin' with strange cats

Plain gats, nothin' special but do the job

Rollin' 'round tryin' to find someone new to rob

A lot of what you smoke, a lot of what you snort

Playin' crack ball seemed to be my favorite sport

My only dance floor was the hot corner store

Beat 'em down, hol' 'em up, that boy don't want 'em no more

Chest cracker, neck snapper, don't make the Mex act a

Muthafuckin' fool on the best actor

Lead blaster, I hope it hits you where it has to

It's the S-P-M sippin' syrup mixed with Shasta

Well I come from the city of dank

Where **** shoot, hop, smoke and snort crank

Where anything's possible but nothin's for sure

High off Khadafi mixed with blow

Well I come from, the city of drank

Where **** chop tar, ride and drip paint

Grip the grain, switch the lane, swangin' on them thangs

Got the trunk with the bang 'cause the South on this thang