S.U.C. 4 Da 713

[Hook - 2x] It's the S.U.C., for the 7-1-3 [H.A.W.K.] Thinking, of a masterplan Ain't nothing but a mic, inside my hand Plus a couple hundred grand, and some female fans In a Sedan, fame when they touch my hand Yeah I'm the man, the flow is hotter than kayan Not lying, boys can keep trying Catch me in a black van, inside's pecan Rubberband man, wild as the Taliban I'm half bird half man, you know they ran Before I began, fools wonder who that man Ask your girl she's a fan, I'm in high demand And man to man, I got her doing a handstand You holding hands, I hope I didn't ruin your plans I'm just saying, now you know the man It's Dub-K, don't rub me the wrong way Or I'll display a K, and blow you away End discussion, turn up the bass and percussion No introduction, just label me a self destruction I'm busting and busting, y'all niggas running and ducking And huffing and puffing, and really ain't talking bout nothing I'm stuffing and hustling, y'all niggas broke and something Y'all disgusting, homeboy I came from nothing Now y'all know, the dude that spit this flow Is the next motherfucker, in the South to blow fa sho [Hook] It's the S.U.C., for the 7-1-3 It's the S.U.C., coming up is Lil' Ke' [Lil' Keke] Well, I'm thinking of a masterplan By the boat by the plane, Cadillac by land Turning corners working wood, with the sweet in my hand Kicking blow freestyle, in the back of the van Brand new Lex truck, it's the color of sand 24's popped up, inside is tan Purple kush sweet tooth, shore line again Might get a better deal, if you spending a grand Not a coward I'm a G, never took off or ran I'm the truth young nigga, not a flash of the past It's Churches or Popeye's, so I'm back to the Chan It's Malibu or South Beach, when I go to the sand I could be sitting broke, out here kicking a can Instead I'm two story, on some acres of land But you bitches out here, trying to ruin my plan When the smoke clear up, a nigga still gon stand Young Don [Hook] It's the S.U.C., for the 7-1-3 It's the S.U.C., coming up is Mike D [Mike D] The way I twist my palm, and work my wand The way I shoot my gab, and handle my runs They think jail shake a G up, I'ma bake a ki up Holla at my vatos, drop out and re-up I'm S.U.C.'d up, POLO Jabo and Re'd up The streets gon love me, the way my niggas eat up It's still a few cakes in the click, we gotta cross I swear I'ma get em, for crossing the young boss I'm tired of dreaming of my click, flying in them hemi's Reality need to be my nigga, swanging in Bentleys Screwed Up Click, we started it gon finish it Pull up in that new joint, rims doing that spinning shit It's Corleone, macking on my cell phone Stay because sister, ese's and bad yellow bones S.U.C. homie, Boss Hogg D homie We check the phonies, now I roll by lonely coming down with that [Hook] It's S.U.C., for the 7-1-3 It's the S.U.C (*talking*) S.U.C. 7-1-3, Take Over baby The album coming soon baby, Summer 2005 Get ready for it