Chink Santana - Breakin' Old Habits lyrics

[Intro - T.I.] Hey what it is pimpin Slim Thug and T.I.P. doing it B.I.G with B.I.G (yea a ye yeaah..) Ya understand what I'm saying (hey..) P.S.C. pimpin! Y'all already know what it is man, its a bad boy thing man Grand hustle collaboration, Y'all already know man Boss Hog whats happening (hey..) A-Town pimpin! [Verse 1 - Slim Thug] Slim Thugga! I roll strapped Glock 40 in my lap I rap but still think like I'm grinding in the trap Trying to adapt to the change from the streets to the game Can't be selling CD's and still selling dem thangs Cause snitches drop names and bring alot of problems And putting somthing in they head the only way you gonna solve em' Jackas stay plotting watching your every move And the minute you snooze will be the minute you lose, dude Thats the rules so I cruise with the tools To fix the damn fools that think I'm slipping with my j**els Breakin old habits so hard to do Thats why you see me on the same block with the same crew And everybody sitting fat living good And I'm the only n***a that be rapping in my hood I was raised by the hustlas, and ganged by the G's And taught by the bosses how to stack that cheese [Hook - T.I.] You got rich and G sh** is still a part of you Cause breakin old habits so hard to do You still watch for the haters and the robbing crew Cause breakin old habits so hard to do When on shot that n***a like I started to Cause breakin old habits so hard to do Fresh out the dealership crackin open cigars in the coupe Man cause breakin old habits so hard to do [Verse 2 - The Notorious B.I.G.] Damn it feel good to see people up on it Flipped two keys in two weeks and didn't flaunt it My brain is haunted, with mean dreams GS's with BB's on it, supreme schemes, to get Richer Than Richie, quickly, n***as wanna hit me If they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat High caliber gats is all I f** with, now peep the rough sh** In my circumfrence, mad b**hes, with mad lucci Bulletproof vestes under they coochie Spittin my uzi, don't lose me, my trigga n***as represent Drivin dirty in J-30's gettin bent And to my hit hoes, my murder mommies I be smokin trees in Belize when they find me While you still k**in n***as with punany, like Connie And Cyrus up in Cypress f** you raw, you on the floor with the virus While I just, slang coke, smoke pounds to choke Got lawyers watchin lawyers so I won't go broke, now check it Them country n***as call me Frank White I'm squirtin off in my loft of course I know my sh**'s tight Sunrise open my eyes no surprise Got my shorty flying in with keys taped to her thighs With all the utensils, who hang my china thing She half black half oriental eighty-six she got me rentals [Hook] [Verse 3 - T.I.] I used to drive a Chevy Monte Carlo, bricks of blow all in it I was taught to sell the sh**, you put your nose all in it Let my b**h drive the Benz but the Rolls off limits How you call yourself pimpin, with hoes all in your buisness What it is, the music business or the streets make a decision I do this in my sleep, and you way out your division pimp This game we play for keeps, and the rules remain hidden This ain't a place for lames and that snitching sh** is forbidden After sitting in the kitchen and whipping with hopes of getting back All that off a brick to go blow it, so it even 50 stacks And now I'm sitting back, thinking about a time When a n***a get a 100 g's, think he went down But now look for loyalty in the game, it ain't there And things ain't the same they changed it ain't fair Real n***as dead, doing their time and ain't here You commit the same crime and come home the same year [Hook]