Southside Story - Trae Tha Truth, HÄWK, Will Lean

This is my story G, day one on Southside

Southside 'til I diiii-iiie…

It gotta be Southside, all up in your face

When I’m creeping and crawling, up out the states

I made nineteen years, and a candidate

No time to plex, I gotta stack my change

And working wood on the grain, in the turning lane

With a 18 thousand dolla, 'Sacci piece and chain

In the big body Benz, with the raw beam

Six inch TV’s, when I drop the screens

Drop the top, sun fin to hit the fade

When I’m baller lining, I’m be a bate

Looking through my shit, watching yellow bones

And its whether or not, they be creeping my car

Going hard on weights, I gotta peep the game

I’m in a private plane, in a private lane

With 13 karats, in my pinky ring

On a pen and pad, I lace up the game

All on the radio, and on the TV

To the world premier, we on MTV

Plus so many niggas, really can’t see me

Body rock the states, and p op up on three’s

When I’m swang my 4's, I’m slamming candy do’s

I’m on my P’s and Q’s, and I love this game

That’s why, everybody wanna knock my hustle

We done just got rich, and went platinum man

Thank the Lord, for all my success

Been struggling striving, trying to do my best

No more canned sardine, just eight cuisines

Its been a long run, running from the law

Got a new pair, of shoes on feet

And I owe it to the Southside, cause it’s been lovely

Everybody wanna run with me, and popping trunks all bubbly

And everybody, in the club with me

Hold up, baby you know the South is so real

Whit cups sipping drank, and blowing on kill

In the STS, dressed to impress

With a bow legged round the side, to roll with

Y’all need to just understand, its so live

Many dollars, into powder stacks right

When I’m up in the Benz, drop tops in the wind

Chopping to the corner, that I bend

Why a motherfucker, wanna hate on me man

Cause they can’t get off they ass, and stack change

Down on Southside, we don’t play no games

We pop trunks on the corners, in the turning lane

Just realize, and stop fighting the pencil

Because I pimp a pen, or a pencil

Its about time, that your ass gon recognize

Guerilla Maab, is some cold individuals

This is my story G, day one on Southside

Southside 'til I diiii-iiie

On the road, to reach in the TV and BET

And I owe it, to the Southside

Southside 'til I diiii-iiie

Niggas can’t hold me back I hold the gat, thought of many ways done told you

that

Talking about golden plack, diamonds in your face done showed you that

I roll the Lac I stroll the Benz, get the weed I’ll po' the end

I’ma ball 'til I fall, fuck waiting 'til I score again

We big shots with big Glocks, on top I play it cool

On my block where I lay my rules,&nb sp;on your block where I spray with tools

Slay them fools with my steel, let them know this shit’s for real

Botany Boys/Guerilla Maab, a killer squad making mills

Fuck what you feel time to pop a seal, only when we grad, it’s major deal

On the Texas reel trying to make a mill, serious bout that dollar bill

House on the hill yacht on the lake, can’t get close to my estate

Like Ice Cube push rhymes like weight, haters we anialate

Don’t violate or try to hate, licks been heard in the Texas state

I just can’t wait to set thangs straight, Texas is the rap state

Let’s conjugate hop in the Benz, Guerilla Maab and Dead End

On that chase for benjamins, in this shit we play to win

Pulling out my yard as I drop the top, ready for the jackers I’m gon cock the

Glock

Pulling up at the club everybody show love, might slow my pace but never stop

for bops

Cause when a nigga didn’t have weed to smoke, seem like them hoes had a need to

choke

So I bled the block and I bled the block, exactly what I need for the seeds to

grow

Now I’m living myself Z-Ro today, even though I had road blocks in my way

I made it over the hill I guess that was the will, of that man for me to get

outta the game

I sold weed and crack on down to heroine, sporting clothes on motherfuckers

payroll

Many golds and the movies, Guccis Fassaci’s Guess and Donna Karen

I smoke and I lean but still I maintain, ain’t a damn thang changed I’m still

the same

Breaking motherfuckers off with a sock by mouth, represent the South about

fancy thangs

My pen is thoed and my pen is raw, 24/7 I’m gon break the law

At the end of a show I’ma take a bow, my knees wanna be me speed rolling be how

I flip my tongue fast like that, rubbing up on tracks and wrecking 8 Dats

And the Real-To-Real's and a Lex Sedan Deville, with a separate bitch on t he

grill

I bleed the block now with the rocks, I bleed with the candy paint

Sipping promethazyne codeine, with a Jolly Rancher with a hand on drank

And I got my mind focused on benjamins, dividends in the back of a big Benz

22 years old with a Fat Pat roll, from a tight ass verse and I’m in the wind

Check it out, Southside Story baby

Z-Ro, Dougie D, Trae, Willean, Big H.A.W.K