Mr. 3-2 - Standing Strong lyrics

(Billy Cook) Whoa no-no-no, y'all ain't ready And if you are, then cop to this playa Oooh, don't sleep on it You gotta creep with it, ooooh It's so slow and loud and banging, now you know [Hook: Billy Cook] Slow, Loud And Bangin' Still in the game, and standing strong Shining thoed, and swanging chrome Grinding full time, trying to get it on Haters wanna, hate a G Like Billy Cook, and S-L-A-B Cause we got, the game on lock Pulling up on the block, looking so clean [Mr. 3-2] Still in the game, my name ring like bells Throughout this free world, all the way to jail cells n***as is jeal', cause I'm knocking down they broad Hustling for mine, serving these boys hard I pray to the Lord, this rap thang goes down Keep me alive and freaky, don't have to sell pounds Boys ain't sh**, so I stay's on a chase f**ing with jacking n***as, got me a case So I slowed my pace, and ride one deep With something real jazzy, in the pa**enger seat From head to the feet, I'm a hundred percent real Hundred percent grind, I'm counting hundred dolla bills Cause stuffling and hustling, is all I know Pockets full of cash, moving blocks of that snow Spitting at a hoe, crawling down slow The Lord only knows, how far will I go [Trae] Representer Slow Loud And Banger, a playa gotta get that paper Never be falling off of my game, and these haters I'ma see you later Trae that same cat on 5-4, with a throwback and black Lac With a trunk cracked when I bang that, slowed down Fat Pat They don't wanna see me wreck that, when I tip slow and I swang wide I struggle and then I strive, on a mission trying to keep it live On the underground is where I grind, forever repping the name I'm sick of pain, so now I'm motivated to leave a stain From the life of the hard knocks, in a Benz with a hard top Flat screens and a XBox, and a top fell off the drop On the block running from cops, late night looking for cot I'm a G till the heart stop, think not you better ask Shot About this S.L.A.B. Slow Loud And Bangin', and we forever wrecking Give me the microphone, I can show you gorillas with aggression That's spitting without a question, my blessing is what I'm stressing For n***as that's steady testing, I'm co*king my Smith-N-Wesson [Hook] [Lil' Head] I paid dues, and now I'm living greatly now The b**hes that use to trap me, wanna rape me now I got a little change, wanna date me now Call a n***a cellular phone, and page me now You fake n***as ain't no better and, f** you and your fellow men Ask yourself think about it, now who's the better man See I was told, that I wish I one day If I wasn't a victim, of hood crime gun play I done been there done that, even had a stroke Pick the words that I quote, that's emotionally wrote I even had a couple of girls, I thought was real But these broads is scandalous, less and talk this year Everything that I grind for, is all for Omaria Lil' Rashard and the money, daddy gone be spoiling you So understand, that I'm caught up in this street life And when I'm done, I promise y'all we'll be iight [Jay'Ton] Jay'Ton gotta make that paper, went from dropping a old school To driving Navigators, and I still got hated On my dick, hating me cause I make that cash And stack that cash, and pull up in a drop on they a**es Sitting on gla**, but nevermind that The S.L.A.B. is all in your face, and no way you can hide that And still I ride fly, on eleven times two's If your broad is a dime, she still get ran through By the click is South Klique, repping the Southside Pull up in something stretched, and my do's be suicide Nationwide certified the King, Don Datta If you think I'm tricking my money, baby I think nada [Lil' B] I look good feel fine, my flow is genuine 22's spinning like, it's the hands of time They don't stop, watch em chop S.L.A.B. beating up your block Swanging corner to corner, letting the bumper unlock We drop nothing but hits, you haters dismissed Treat em like fake hoes, scratch they name off the list Cause we grind still shine, if you try to take mine Got something that'll drop you, like the drop of a dime I'm Lil' B, you n***as know we S-L-A-B Putting it down with Billy Cook, in these H-Town streets Standing tall on my feet, I know you gotta hate that Wave that, we the type that make you n***as move back On a track so squash that, matter of fact I'ma grind lil' n***a, thinking about my paper stack Throw hooks like Kojack, if you get in my zone I'm too strong, S.L.A.B. throwing combinations to your dome [Dougie D] We Slow, Loud And Bangin' these streets Pumping pushing for paper, to stay up on feet Some hate, and try to knock me But I'm on top of my game, so they can't stop me I'm a motherf**ing G, apparently you lost your mind It was destiny to shine, for me and smoke and smoke a lot And drink, and everything that I got in my life look I provide for me Got k**as that'll ride for me, got b**hes that'll ride for me Don't matter how you see it, it's Guerilla and we ride for we But still, they hating S-L-A-B And Billy, so we gon shake them b**hes off like fleas But look and calculate, capitalize in these streets [Hook]