Top Songs By E.S.G.
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
E.S.G.
Songwriter
Lyrics
Aww yeah, it's 1995
So we want you to just, turn your burns up
'Cause we gon show the whole world
How we do it down South, fool
Gotta do, what I gotta do 1995, so fools give it to me
And this is for them buster type G's, who want to do me
I never had no love, for them crooked 5-0's
Chrome mirror 84's bro, and some low pro bowl
Tight ride bubble head lights, sheisty G's pause
Damn there go the laws, got me stuffing my yay up under my drawas
Trying to jack this G, cause I'm caught up in my click
I ain't with it, they throwing me down cause I didn't pay my tickets
But um you fools you know, I got my hand on my glock
And my left is on my steering wheel, so watch someone get dropped
Four deep up in that Lac yeah, coming down tight
Swigity swangin' bigity bangin', like I'm turning left I'm bigity bustin' a right
And now you know in and out, out and in I dip
Damn them G's in the South, are a trip
And my homies steady mobbing, our game is for real
With that fifth wheel grill, mo-mo wood grain steering wheel
Working it with that fo' and go ahead, with that three way
Candy painted be so wet, leaving drips up on that freeway
Baby give it to me, cause you know I won't quit
And I'll be mobbing with my playas, extra gat on my hip
And to the fools down South, keep slanging them thangs
It's '95 yeah fool, we comes again yep to swang and bang
And now you know, what my real G's do
Sip syrup swang and bang, jam nothing but that screw fool
Gotta do, what I gotta do
Gotta do-gotta do, what I gotta do
We come to swang and bang
So freaks back the hell up, cause tricks you ain't holding
You wasn't even down with my G's, wasn't rolling
And now that our pockets got thicker, this gal I had to hit her
Sorry playa hater, he shouldn't of been in love with her
'Cause a trick is a trick, and a trick ain't it
And if you keep slipping, she gon hit you for a quick lick
Dummies stop roaching, trying to keep her up
'Cause while you out there capping, she be blowing my beeper up
Now she's saying that she love you, you think that gal for real
All the time, that freak be phonier than a four dolla bill
And just to show my G's, that I ain't too fake
I think that last night fried out, jamming my Screw tape
It's the E just jumping up, in and out and with my crew
And after I put my mack down pass it around, so what you want to do
Undercover fools, they giving up that thang
Hotel 6-6 hit trick, you want to swang and bang
And all my boys in Houston Texas
(Swanging and banging)
And what about, down in Dallas
(Swanging and banging)
I can't forget, San Anton'
(Swanging and banging)
Yeah, we got it going on
(Swanging and banging)
And all the playas in Atlanta
(Swanging and banging)
My young fools, from Louisiana
(Swanging and banging)
Them G's, way up in Memphis
(Swanging and banging)
I can't forget about Chi
(Swanging and banging)
And all my boys, in Detroit
(Swanging and banging)
And what about, that Cleveland
(Swanging and banging)
And all the playas in New Jersey
(Swanging and banging)
And can't forget, Killa Cali
(Swanging and banging)
And all the fools, in Seattle
(Swanging and banging)
Yeah, what about Denver
(Swanging and banging)
I can't forget, St. Louis
(Swanging and banging)
Way down in Miami
(Swanging and banging)
Ha-ha, fool
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Wesley Weston
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