We Been Fly

(*talking*) S.L.A.B., Slow Loud And Bangin' know I'm saying We been on this fly shit, yeah we keep it gangsta You know we been dropping tops, pulling out 4's Spinning on boys, straight out Ike or Jet Since Pat and Screw was around [Trae] What's cracking lately my nigga, must ain't heard of the news The way I dropped a '60 Cheve, plus he grew in his shoes I guess I'm fly, cause these boppers steady calling my phone But I don't really wanna be bothered, when I'm tipping my chrome And I don't really wanna be bothered, bitch I'm feeling my zone Slow motion banging my song, four 15's to the dome Yeah, I think you kinda feel the point that I'm stressing Like a jacker that's running up, gon feel the black Smith-N-Wesson Off with top shocks on the drop, these jocks on cock Clearing out the block, hearts gon stop when I set up the shop Popping off with them thangs, still the same but changing my lanes And as soon as my attitude change, I'm change up your frame The name Trae bitch get it right, 'fore the Maab get to clicking Like a TV in '86, back when the color was missing So if you hating fuck you, 'fore a nigga buck you To tell the truth I give a fuck, bout what you going through [C-Loc] Now pure playa when I pass, play the game with precision So fly when I ride, girl go on take a picture Got a swag so serious, you'll mistake it for a dance Got a strap so swoll, knock 'em clean out they pants These hoes love Loc, they know Loc a real man Baby mama want me back, but that hoe had a chance Went from selling blocks of crack, to selling verses for grands Real recognize real, that's why Trae is my man Look Big Loc forever fly, till I'm resting in peace I'm so cold that my blood temp, about zero degrees I'm so fly like Outkast, so fresh and so clean Make the game look so easy, but I'm just doing my thing [W.G.] I'm so fly, hopping out of my car with the rims spinning Dubs up, looking like I just won a million I ain't tripping, it took a little time but me and my team cashing checks Hopping out of planes, at L.A.X Houston Tex what I rep, when I hit the West Got a big ass Dub, hanging off my chest Seeing niggas cuffing they chicks, run up bitch And see how long it take my niggas, to blitz [Boss] I'm fly, but niggas still will get beat up Every 24/7, got my motherfucking heater Never leaving the house, without my pistol grip what I'm fin's to grip They tell me to calm down, but Lil' Boss Hogg is fin's to trip I advise you niggas, to catch hold of your brain Cause 17 hollow points, might shower down like rain Off the chain, fresh off the dock tipping a yacht I bang like 5 Deuce Scott, tipping a drop Bucking at cops I'm over the law, I'm over your jaw Couped up in the kitchen, and I'm working with raw Ain't too many niggas, that can G like me I keep about 16, B.G.'s with heat