It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up Tell me what y'all know about this H-town chick [Incomprehensible] I like them gangsta grillz Riding through like did you see those big wheels Pop trunk and let me feel, I got chills Now what you know about a baller, shotcaller Now won't you tell me what it do, where you from I'm from Houston, keeping it screwed up And what you used to, tippin' on 44's On the north they stay braided up, south faded up I see you with ya candypaint, do you got them dollas man It's all about the heavyweight, let me hear ya holla man Houston you know what it do, let me hear ya holla man LeToya just too much for you, let me hear ya holla It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up Let me hear you screw it, it's Houston, H-Town It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Makes the beat chop, chop, makes the beat chop, chop Makes the beat chop, makes the beat chop, H-Town I got a thang for them gangstas with grillz Top to bottom like he spendin' big skrill So what you into, tell me homie what's the deal 'Cause I wanna be your baby, driving you crazy 'Cause we act a fool where I'm from Houston, Texas keeping it screwed up And you can bet a thug is what I'm used to 'Cause that's what I'm all about, want you to holla out I see you with ya candypaint, do you got them dollas man It's all about the heavyweight, let me hear ya holla man Houston you know what it do, let me hear ya holla man LeToya just too much for you, let me hear ya holla It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up in H-Town, blowin' up Let me hear you screw it, it's Houston, H-Town It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Makes the beat chop, chop, makes the beat chop, chop Makes the beat chop, makes the beat chop, H-Town 4 tires, 4's spinning like a ceiling fan Seats reclined, smokin' pine with wheel in my hand Diamonds shinin', gangsta grill lookin' like a 100 grand Now that's a Texas thang, mayne you wouldn't understand And we got that country grammar just like the St. Lunatics In Texas we screwed up that's how we be doing it 'Cause 'round here, it ain't all about account and brokers Boys sitting fat with stacks taller than the Alamo I see you with ya candypaint, do you got them dollas man It's all about the heavyweight, let me hear ya holla man Houston you know what it do, let me hear ya holla man LeToya just too much for you, let me hear ya holla It's all about the candypaint, all about the 4's mayne It's all about the slab baby, all about the Makes the beat chop, chop, makes the beat chop, chop Makes the beat chop, makes the beat chop, H-Town H-Town, H-Town © UTOPIA FALLS ENTERTAINMENT; 2 PLAYAS PUBLISHING LLC; NOONTIME PUBLISHING; WHO IS MIKE JONES MUSIC; LETOYA MUSIC PUBLISHING; WB MUSIC CORP.; KAY DANE MUSIC; WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com