Grind Hard (Feat. Dj B-doe Young T.o.e.)

T.O.E. - hol' up!

Say my name in my city when you talk about cash

I'm stackin chips, grindin hard, nigga showin my ass

Nigga the game on smash streets on lock

Other niggaz block roll but my block never stop

Don't you know I'm pushin rocks, stashin cash in your socks

Young TOE and Pimp C, candy red drop top

My hoes yeah they hot so I'm steppin out clean

Got a MEAN grind game, Underground like the Kingz

Blowin purp' and sippin lean, but still buzzin off water

Don't fuck with me, I'm T.O.E., ain't nobody shit harder

I'm droppin numbers in the pot, the same age as my father

And when they hit that, the kick back, freeze up like water

P.A. 1-5 nigga, like to stay high nigga

Hoes call me first class, cause I stay fly nigga

I'm known to skate by nigga, but the snake hittin licks

Keep a brick full of shit that get filthy right quick bitch!

UGHHHHHH~!

Me and Young TOE in a drop top 'llac

It's cold outside, so the top and hood back

Hit the town again when the skunk come through

The Swisher Sweet brown, but the inside blue

Bet'chu never seen blue 'dro befo'

It come from Hawaii, bitch niggaz don't wanna try me

I'm the MVP of that P.A.T.

You say he lookin for me, I don't see nobody chasin me

Roll my own shit, I don't need no niggaz lacin me

Guerillas in my trunk, ain't no nigga outbass'n me

Cocaine lady, I don't fuck her no mo'

The bitch pussy good but she a sheisty-ass hoe

She fuckin up my hood, she won't let my people go

They comin up fast, but all the fiends die slow

I ain't Jesse Jackson, I'm just watchin the reaction bro

I keep pushin cause grindin hard the only life I know

If ain't 'bout bread, then it's dead

I count money all day 'til my fingers turn red

Fuck a rubber band, a nigga need a buncha ropes

Custom trill niggaz from Port Arthur sell a buncha dope

Game got good, so a nigga eatin steaks

Pimpin on drank, blowin purp', chillin on a lake

Get it straight mayne, I'm sittin on old cash

Ball in the club 20 deep just to throw cash

If you lie doe, I got somethin for them jackers

A mean 17 they hit hard like linebackers

Boys talkin down I put it all in they face

Cause I set up shop and bop to 48 states

So when you see them Texas plates, you know it's goin down

B-do in a city near you, straight out that 409

And I'm a hold it down, I bar none and fade all

Twenty-five, hoe three-sixty-six, no days off