That's a Bet

[Intro: J.R. Writer]

uhh chyea

dipset, swisha house

my man paul wall, jr writers definitely in the building yall

lets bounce, bounce

[Verse 1: J.R. Writer]

im from the party to the lobby to the lobby with the pump

listen papi u aint gotti get the shotty if u stunt

masserati in the front, i aint shoot a nigga

but off one button i could put the body in the trunk

theres a body in the trunk, big body with the fronts

stitches to the face, dont even (polly) on the blunt

i hit mami if i want, cuz she aint seen a 6-4

so she just loves the impally when they jump

ima heave em to the con, fill his heater if u want

u'll be able to see, wat chu be eatin for a month

i (will steamers) to get launched, of me n paul wall

drag u up and down florida and leave u in the swamp

im a hustla homie, with some bigger funds, some bigger guns

i pull em out, shit kids'll run, get rid of somethin

they kid is done, thats just for fun

in a mayback, to the bay shack, better lay back

'fore i spray that, that 6 figure nigga want

[Chorus x2: Both]

stackin paper, we breakin bread

we gettin money, til the day we dead

its the swisha house and the dipset

this is history in the making, baby thats a bet

[Verse 2: Paul Wall]

live from the swisha house, straight up outta that 3rd coast

pop seal, hold a 4, sip a drank, lets take a toast

im on my grind and on my note,

im breakin bread and chasing hoes

evading laws n tippin 4s,

this is the playa life that i chose

stack cheese, count cash, bad bitch, big ass

paul wall and jr writer, gettin for that puff puff pass

drip the candy, pop the trunk, drop some greens and ride that choppers

bang and screw in a parkin lot, with (michael watch) catchin all the boppers

on top of my game my eyes are peeled

im on the block im posted up

on south (leave) with cabbage head

we watchin the laws in a poster truck

got drank then pour it up, got dank then blow it up

got plicks i got the pump, wat it do, thats wats up

i keep a bodyguard by my waste, .40 cal thats my pal

fuck a girlfriend, pack a compact plastic glock, thats my gal

swisha house we slow it down, in h town we hold it down

with 2 commas in my bank account, u best believe this shit go down

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: J.R. Writer]

u lookin at the get it getters, bigger figures hitters niggas

im just a pimp gave the fox (make u city slickers)

we some city slickers, sticky hitters, stick ya sister

fly to harlem, come to ball with some fifty-fifers

[Paul Wall:]

ballin is a habit baby, big body with big wheels

pocket of them ben franklins and pale full of big bills

my paper game is top notch, my hustle game is top notch

my ice game is top notch, check ya mouth check ya watch

[J.R. Writer:]

yao

you rockin with the livest, hoe. im vamanos, stay addios

flip pie, trick n fly, this the guy from stop n go

whip and (trough) stay ridin low, i aint a liar liar

swear im on fire at the dealer, hot drop n roll

[Paul Wall:]

we keep it pimpin pimpin, we stackin paper baby

ridin shotgun with a shotgun, in a cls mercedes

jr writer and paul wall, swang the fear, pour (a litre)

good hustlas, gettin money, we certified young block (breeders)

[Chorus x2]