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Stat Quo
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1
Uh! Uh! Uh! A-Town! A-Town!
2
Yeah! Yeah! LT Moe on this motherfucking track nigga!
3
c'mon! GMM! c'mon! Yeah!
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Stat! Quo! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
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Uh! Uh! Lotta niggaz talking that bullshit, yeah!
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We gon do that and do this here
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c'mon! You don't want no motherfucking problem bitch ass nigga
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A-Town! Yeah! Uh!
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Where you from? I'm from the A hoe
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Said I'm out, been bucking on bustas and gettin that pay hoe
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Our minds is paid for, hit the blocks like Lego
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Keep their hands on the special
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Cause they'll show you what tecs do
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Them boys is drama driven, raised by the system
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Listen, they bust to survive
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Your squad be bustin for recognition
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Frontin and ass kissin, industury pussy nigga
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They gankin your batter before it get to the cookie nigga
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Them killas live round here, don't bring your ass down here
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Niggaz have a tendency to act up and clown here
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Tote thangs, no thang, good their ain't no game down here
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Bright white to brown in grand money exchange here
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You already know what it is playa, a PD can't save ya
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Your time's up, flat line, shorty see ya later
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No amount of favors, no amount of paper
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Can't stop the inevitable death of a hater
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[Chorus: x2]
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And you don't want problems, bitch nigga believe it
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Their hand is on the trigger and they ready to squeeze it
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So save all that drama, them boys tote armor
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I'll have you laying dead right in front of yo mama
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News is real folk
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You don't want to make it on there
34
It's dangerous niggaz wan't warfare playa
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Ain't no "oops" "I'm sorry" or "my bad" shit
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Skulls split wide open for some dumbass shit
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Young wipper snapper flappin his lip
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Part of the game is this
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They marksmen homes, they don't miss
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Cops come, they don't snitch
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No witnesses at the crime scene
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Just your body leaking at Yao Ming
43
When the lights go off pimp, the sharks come out
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Thangs bang out, bust till ya brains hang out
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Come to your house, sitting on your porch where ya live
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Waiting till ya come back to the crib
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I'm trying to tell ya how
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This ain't bout no rap song, it's real life
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Can't nobody tell ya what gettin killed, feel like
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The trill is trill, the fake is fake
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And they don't make bulletproof vests for ya face, YEAH!
52
[Chorus: x2]
Get Low
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