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Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
John Jackson
Songwriter
Lyrics
Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
I'm at the ranch sippin' mud, nigga
No matter where I go, I represent the hood niggas
Yeah, I said big boobs for the big steppers
Represento for the big rappers
Like to gamble, we big bettas
Not the little one, I like big better
My craft bring me big cheddar
That real cheese, that big Fetta
Bad bitch takin' eye exams in his LV
Got the big letters, these VVS like big letters
These Vs like big letters
Truth is, when y'all rap it's been all capped like big letters
I'm big Skepta, pullin' on these lil' celebis
Actin' like they big cake found out niggas was lil' Debbie
My Dallas bitch named Big Debbie, I call her, she big ready
Know you said you was independent, yo bad ass don't get webby
Your ass soft, it's a Big Teddy
Catch a sound like you big petty
Know that shit big ready
I drink you from a big Yeti, yea Detroit call me fat five, I'm top five, give a six-letter
My bitch told me keep ballin' on 'em, no timeouts like Chris Webber
I'm a long way from the projects lil Jon, Jon, and miss Deborah
Niggas want me to fall off, but I'm a big stepper, not a mis stepper
Shit hit hard, Julius Pepper, and I get sacks like a linebacker
Real nigga that's really up, gon' fill you up like a contractor
You don't know, then you know now
When it go down for a slowdown
Be a showdown if we throw down
Still G's up at the hoedown
(Upside)
Uh, yellow stones in my chain like I'm John Dutton
Yellow bone on my line, tryna get on somethin'
Thoroughbred come through and she be long struttin'
Automatic turn on, I push that on button
Told her, tore me up and never turn me down
I tell her ass to giddy up and then she turn it 'round
I told her my can show no love, gotta earn it now
As far as 5-5, no, I can't, I burned it down
Know I'm from the city that keep pistols like the cowboys
Players never sweat the lil' shit, that's for the towboys
You keep it a hundred, but she want a hundred thou', boy
Bring her easy, talkin' 'round the snipers, you's a wild boy
Nigga, this the wild, wild east
These is some 5-5 streets
They got switches out here
Don't bring no pow-pow peace
End up a wild style piece
End up a murder on the wall
I seen some live niggas die
I seen some thorough niggas fall
I keep some money in the safe
I keep some bird in a wall
I Keep some tucked in a cut
I keep some thorough in a stall
I keep, yeah
Writer(s): John Jackson
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