How We Swang

[Hook]

We riding Cheves and them Lacs, on them thangs

Down Souh, that's how them boys do it mayn

Get out of line, them thangs rain

Paint change, everytime we switching lanes

(from the back-back, to the front and to the side

In the Lac-Lac with a blunt, now where the light

From the back-back, to the front and to the side

In the Lac-Lac with a blunt, now where the light)

[E.S.G.]

I'm back in my hood, we gripping wood we call it grain

It's the man who wrote "Wanna be a Baller", and made you "Swang & Bang"

Yup E.S.G. you know my name, forty G's of in my chain

My rap sheet before the rap game, I had ki's off in my Range

My homie left me hanging, yup he signed with Pharrell

That ain't stopping shit, round here we getting this mail

For my homies in jail, like Beanie Sigel and Young Pimp

Come back home for black chrome, on a 300 M

Dodge Magnum station wagon, I done told ya son

I'm like Pac, Big and Pun all rolled in one

Yup real O.G. I been that G, still got T.V.'s in my seats

Ice the size of Chris Rock teeth, heat the size of Yao Ming feet

You can call me Shaq, the way they threw me in the cross

Now my team's on top, you can't make the playoffs

Yup break boys off my trunk popping, baller blocking ain't money stopping

Mess with me gon R.I.P., like O.D.B. or Johnny Cochran

[Hook]

[E.S.G.]

Not Mike Jones I'm still tipping, ain't no room for Robin Givens

Need a chick that's bout her bidness, like Kimora Lee Simons

Baby this Baby Phat, baby this baby that

Hot boy like Weezy, but I got Baby stacks

Damon Dash cash, so mo' yay we gotta flip

Till my bank account swoll up, like Jay-Z bottom lip

Yeah we thugging in this bitch, steady busting at my foes

Got that Ruben Studdard money, it be busting out my clothes

Standing tall as light poles, or a statue in the park

I'm the wizard tin man, I'm here to give you boys some heart

Down here we spit it for real, icicles in my grill

Candy green say I'm deuce, look like a pickle on wheels

No American idols round here no Paula, Randy or Simon

Just a old school Impala, rolling candy shining

If you grinding keep grinding, cause ain't nothing in life for free

I'ma be a G-A-N-G-S-T-A, till the day I D-I-E g'eah

[Hook]

[E.S.G.]

What you know bout groupie freaks, Gucci shoes and Gucci seats

Bout my ends like Pimpin' Ken, ghetto streets to executive suites

Ashton Mars and EXT's, platinum screens and DVD's

28's and 23's, six T.V.'s in the SUV

S.U.C. now I bet you E, spitting nothing but hits for boys

Bring a role of toilet paper (why), cause I'm shitting on boys

Underground bully, I ain't scared to smash it to ya

This year I'm punking rappers, you can call me Ashton Kutcher

Blades chopping like a butcher, they can't stand me now

Can't be like 50 Cent new album, and let my fan's down

This for my Vice Lord GD's, Bloods, Crips, Latin Kings

Blacks, whites, Asians, everybody in between

Yeah that chopper to chop ya, srop toppers can't stop us

Crooked coppers think they got us, so they watch us with binoculars

Bottle popping trunk knocking, stopping traffic in the Lac

Cause I got one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight, 15's in the back g'eah

[Hook]