Oh No

[Hook] Oh no, there go them Texas boys banging in a fo' do' Top fell out the drop, crawling on 84's Think of taking my slab, baby I don't think so My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low Five percent or ten, but still my screens gon glow These haters be in my mix, and these boppers be on my dick Everytime I come round the corner [Paul Wall] I'm from the land of opportunity, in God we trust But haters in my mix, got me paranoid and disgust I'm scoping out my side mirrors, when my car's in park It's after dark, and my slab is fresh meat to these sharks Boys thinking I been drinking, so I'm off my note But I got seventeen surprises, tucked inside of my coat See me strut through the parking lot, on 22's plus It's a must I make all haters, eat my dust Them jump-out boys, waiting trying to catch me slipping I ain't tripping, grain ain't the only thing that I'm gripping Boys jacking with these tow trucks, thinking they slick But take a trip to South Lee, and end up in a ditch They got my purple people eater once, the next day I bought a Range Rover cash, and a new set of fronts I've been on feet for months, I'm taking haters to lunch Paul Wall and Trae, hit em with that one-two punch [Hook] [Trae] When I flip in my slab I'm fin to beat they back off, like I was legs Sitting low and tinted on chrome, gangstafied till I'm finished I'm bout to diminish these haters, when my trunk start waving Blue over gray, side of my drop with six T.V.'s I'm displaying They hate that I'm shining, with the fifth wheel falling flying down the block But if one of these haters, wanna jack me Slugs gon be flying, out the Glock I click for no reason, this season my slab is staining they brain And I be known for getting reckless in Texas, gripping on grain Forever be pimping, 84 tipping all through the South Grilling boppers all through my tint, with diamonds all in my mouth They all in my mouth, looking stupid when I burn right past em Cause some of these broads be living shife, and setting up for the jacking But not today, cause Trae gon be flipping on top of his game We guerillas I'm mobbing with, ain't no stopping me mayn When I'm in my fo' do' solo, the slab is bound to get tossed And if you trying to be competition, then you bound to be getting lost [Hook] [Chamillionaire] Now look how your life stares, in a barrel and I swear I wouldn't let a platinum ghost, jack me in a nightmare I got that paranoia for you, trigga finger gon destroy you And if that trigga finger don't get you, get the number to my lawyer I hold court with Ben Franklin, I talk with my bread Soon as I let him out that briefcase, it's off with your head Can't negotiate with the heater either, talk to the lead And talk to your head, when it's finished you'll walk with the dead I call the police they'll probably get him, by the end of the week I call the streets, they gon get him before the end of this treat With the end of the heat, to set flame to the end of his suite The end of his feet, will be poking out the end of a sheet Hold up I'm just saying though, has this happened befo' naw But no law, gon keep these hollows from entering your jaw If it's my money or my family, or my woman or my car I'm headed to that blood bank, I'm bout to make a withdrawl [Hook] [Chamillionaire] When I'm coming round that corner All you haters, better get up out of my range Run up on me, if you wanna I ain't gon play no games, at all when I'm taking my aim Cause you're gonna be a goner You thinking of taking mine, late night when the 84's swang I know you niggas in the game, gotta feel the same Make a jacker feel the pain, and he can charge it to the game When I'm coming round that corner Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm Run up on me, if you wanna Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm Cause you're gonna be a goner Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm I know you niggas in the game, gotta feel the same Make a jacker feel the pain, and he can charge it to the game [Hook]