Talking Texas

[Produced by Mr. Lee] [Verse] I'm from Texas, nigga where the Cadillac push us Bitches blowing up my phone, but I'm in the kitchen cooking up the work Still got bricks for the dirt I be on my grind, gettin' mine, haters hearts hurt Cause a nigga stay shinin', pullin' up in some foreign Steppin' out clean to the grand Ralph Lauren Bitches on my dick cause my paper stacks tall And they see me everday in the galeria mall Bitch I'm 6'6 tall like I play basketball But I'm still ballin', Slim Thugga never fall 15 years later paper still gettin' longer And a nigga freestyle game gettin' stronger Used to [?] on the corner Now I'm sellin' this to fiends Breakin' boys off, on swangs lookin' clean And they looking thick, I'm talkin' all the menage Got a pitch in my penthouse give them massage Bentley in my garage, bitch I been ballin' I ain't never stopped and hell yeah the ho's callin' Stay blowin' up my phone, tryna get some paper Garage full of cars, stay shitin' on my neighbours When I'm pullin' out clean Sippin' on lean It's that boy Thugga and I'm shuttin' down the scene Got a pocket full of green and a phone full of ho's I be hittin' Pappadeaux, lobster on my plate oh A nigga like me eatin' real good and I came from the hood Been the boss, mane and the shit is understood Still grippin' on wood in the foreign Bitches ain't trippin', oh no haters I ain't boring Roll with the strap, got the judge sittin' close If a nigga fuck with me he gon' get burnt like toast Cause I'm a real G and ain't playing games And everybody in the streets know my motherfucking name I putted in my work, I putted in my time So now a G like me sittin' back to shine Lookin' off top floors, still close candy do's Thugga never trippin', you ho's know how we got by the paper Fetti got a paper green, I ain't stickin' my dick in none of you ho's giving me green You bitches better brang it, Thugga stay swangin' Hit the boulevard came through game changin' Still gaining fame and I'm still gainin' bucks And you bops mad at me cause I don't give a fuck Them niggas is some simps Bitch, we some pimps Walking in the 5th with a motherfucking limp Poppin' up golden bottles Section full of models Yeah a boss like me smash Ferrari throttles Smash Ferrari throttles, going real fast Mashin' 6-10 200 on the dash All about the cash, hell yeah I'm gettin' paper And I don't give a fuck about no motherfucking hater R.I.P. Pimp C niggas like me keep it trill And even when them other niggas fake, I keep it real Ain't got no deal, I ain't got shit for me Still gettin' paper, you ain't know I'm a boss See Imma buy more paper, Imma buy more money Broke niggas better look at a nigga funny Yeah I got them looking sick I took them niggas chicks And now they all mad cause they bitches on my dick BHO click and them niggas still rich Told you 15 years ago, Imma keep makin' hits Shot out to that J-Dawg, shot out to the Killa Shot out Young Black I'm talking all my gorillas C-Ward served daily, all my dawgs from the camp And we still shinin' like some motherfucking limps Ain't loving no tramp, bitch I dick 'em down and deuce 'em I ain't even trippin', hit the boulevard and lose 'em Cruisin' real slow while I sip on the cruiser You niggas talking down, but you niggas is some losers Bitch I'm a winner, shinin' since the beginning It's that boy Thug Boss I'm still getting