Songtexte S.L.A.B - Y2

Slow loud bangin
Slow loud bangin
They call me t-r-i-l
Another l
E-r
You just a op
One in his top
Soon as it spark
Send em to god
Can't make it stop
Petty as fuck
Pull up and pop
Skirt off in drop
Take his lil bop
Fuck her then swap
My nigga mob
This for my dawg
Still on they neck nigga
Drive behind tint
Silhouette nigga
Drank got me sounding dyslexic
Slow loud and bangin in Texas
That's on the set nigga
Stay on that purp
I'm perplexed nigga
That ain't no cap nigga
Slow loud and bangin in Texas

That's a bitch nigga trait
Put that mop in they face
They don't scream gang gang
When we hop out
Get away clean put that beam
On em
Somebody lean on em
Just want that m take the op out
If that pussy ain't knock out it's
Back to the racks
I just called me a thot bitch to
Jab on
Paranoid I got haters that watch
It's one hand on my Glock
So I fuck with my mask on
In the slab so I'm slow loud and
Bangin
I got dead homies I screw the
Sad songs
Nigga still on them beans
Told him chill on that lean
Popped a perc so he actin a
Asshole
Ballin solo so I called a iso
I got heart but that bitch turning
Ice cold
Put a bird in that box
She gon flock to that knot
Told her I get that gwap wit my
Eyes closed
On that drank countin slow

Slow loud bangin
Slow loud bangin
They call me t-r-i-l
Another l
E-r
You just a op
One in his top
Soon as it spark
Send em to god
Can't make it stop
Petty as fuck
Pull up and pop
Skirt off in drop
Take his lil bop
Fuck her then swap
My nigga mob
This for my dawg
Still on they neck nigga
Drive behind tint
Silhouette nigga
Drank got me sounding dyslexic
Slow loud and bangin in Texas
That's on the set nigga
Stay on that purp
I'm perplexed nigga
That ain't no cap nigga
Slow loud and bangin in Texas

I put one in this drum
Have that beat goin dumb
You gon sing out ya lungs
Before you exit
How he pro wit these tools
We ain't even go to school for
That shit
Lot of B's in the section
If it ain't slow loud and bangin
I don't know who the fuck raised
You niggas
I got the keys fuck a lesson
We don't celebrate no birthdays
No mo
Nigga I see mo candles on
Curbs when that death hit
Only time I turn cheek when she
Naked
I just stretch it and flip it like
Trainers
When I slip and I slide in that
Pink
We got records to break
It's like Trick Daddy Trina
Bitch be crushing that bone like
Hyena
Indian it's just chicken marsala
Really thuggin it's easy to hate
But it's harder to love
I get that from my momma
I get high and drive slow