paroles de chanson They Don't Know (214) [Mastered] [feat. B-Dash & Jakecon] - B-Eazy

-Dash]
These fools don′t know, bout that 214!

Yeah! Ganster to the elements
Clear the scene, leave all the evidence
You gone think a nigga like me was Heaven sent
When I pull up to your hood or your residence
It ain't nothing to boss, cuz it′s evident
You better put your money away
You ain't confident
15% of that shit be real
The other 85% be fake as shit!
You better watch what you say to me
Keep your eyes and your toes all down in the streets
I be rolling 75 bout twice a week
Make 'em find another body in The Trinity
Chop it up with my niggas out that Murda Worth
817 be known for that murder first
469, 682 dog
That shit just be that area code!
Roll up bout 3 in a row
Fucking around with my nigga off Kiest & Polk
He didn′t know that I was a real Bloods ass nigga
But I keep a couple Crips off Wheatland Rd
Everything be moving slow
When I pour a four in double styrofoam cups
Got a couple bottles off Riverfront
Now we′re rolling through the city
Getting real fucked up!
Some niggas might call it Mic City
Know a couple gangsters that's getting it
These niggas don′t know bout 214, man
My niggas really gritty!
Yeah!

-Dash]
These fools don't know, bout that 214!

Now, now, now, now
Tell me what you know about
That Dirty South?
Boys sitting on chrome
And got them golds
Thrown all up in they mouth!
Down here, we call ′em grills
Like UGK, we keep it trill
Hey I might pop a pill
And keep my sweets filled up with that kill
Never none of that reggie, though
If we gone blow, it must be dro!
Flown in from Mexico
If you got a better connect
Then let me know!
If not, then let me go
Choke on that indo smoke
Blow bout 2 blunts, then roll
Back to that liquor store
We finna go get some more
Any brown drink ending with XO
Henny, Remy, E&J Extra Old
Corked up over 8 years old
Gotta be top-shelf, you know
Anything less? I'll tell ya "No!"
This 214, It′s Texas, hoe!
And we like our music extra slow!

Now let me tell you a little bit about that D-Town swag
Triple D that, these niggas out here getting that cash
Riding foreign car, behind tint, blowing that gas
And we'll blast on that ass with that 4-4 Mag
My niggas staying to they business
And these haters, they mad!
But I'm never fucked up about it
Just keep smashing the gas
Cuz I′m a South Dallas nigga
And I′m built to last
Coming off of 2nd Ave
Getting at some cash
Got killas in masks
Reppin the set, while playing with techs
My niggas, they sick
So fuck your click!
I'll fuck your bitch!
Straight gangster shit
I′ll empty clips
Then sank your ship
And to keep from going under
Jump in my whip & dip!
I plead the 5th
Yeah, I'm on some Dallas shit!
You got Oak Cliff, The Nutty North
And The Grove in the bitch
These fools don′t know (fa sho!)
Why we loving this shit
But 214, you already know
Just let me thug in this bitch!