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    BABY BASH

    Bashtown 2011 ©

    Don't Mess With Texas

    "Lone Star ranger"
    "Lone Star ranger"
    "Lone Star ranger" ("Sit-sittin' on swanger")
    "Lone Star ranger"
    "Lone Star ranger"
    "Lone Star ranger" ("Sit-sittin' on swanger") --


    Don't mess with Texas, oh no
    We just so damn, what, so cold
    Competition
    You could really want it
    When you backing down, look what we have accomplished
    Don't mess with Texas, oh no
    We just so damn, what, so cold
    Got the big bangers
    Cause the last swangers
    Paint drippin', boy, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout


    Ay, Lucky Lu', gon' come through, and do this here for Screw zoo
    I'm a Texas boy, eating barbecue, and sippin' on red Mountain Dew
    {Lone Star ranger, sittin' on swanger}
    One in the chamber, ready for the danger
    Five cliffhangers, I'm a show 'em how to tip toe
    Here to wreck a set, bang, when I drop my fifth O
    H-Town, San Anton', ATX, Fort Worth
    Dallas to the valley, man, it's all about the work
    What you know about the great state of Texas
    Rocks in a necklace, leave a {bitch} breathless
    Home of the players and the styrofoam cups
    Woodgrain wheel and I'm ridin' on bucks
    Paint look slippery, drank not Hennessey
    Brand new Bentley, same ol' triple beam
    Uh
    And I'm Draped Up and dripped out
    Eighty-four spiderwebs, got your boy tipped out




    I got chicks like Pamela, from H to Canada
    The only game I ever played good was Gallahger
    Cold like Alas-a-ka, flip 'em like spatula
    People be trying to bite my flows like Dracula's
    Spectacular, my rappin' doesn't seem to have a replica
    Angel, I saw a dude go from Jesse to Jessica
    Dope fiend blessed, I'm a money making maniac
    Born in the gutter like a little cute baby rat
    My lady's tat got SPM in faded black
    People say you look like Carlos Coy, but, ain't he fat
    Just like a janie sack, I'm been gettin' Slim Fast
    Prison life turn my cell block into a gym class
    Pull-ups off my top bunk, bench press my mattress
    Curlin' pillow cases full of books and a atlas
    Can you understand this or has a G lost touch
    Walkin' in my con chucks, livin' out long months




    It's that Dope House Records, jammin' out of Texas
    Mayne, I'm so powerful with quick reflexes
    With the SP Mex's, South Park on hollow
    Happy P., got the beats on steroids like (??)
    If I'm Italian, I'm a Capo, yeah, fully made
    Retire from the game, and still get fully paid
    Yeah
    It's the Dope House prophet
    Thirty-five and forty-five in the state, keep it poppin'
    Boy, what you slangin'
    Boy, what you slangin'
    Ridin' big body, playboy, what you sangin'
    Smashing down ten with a farm in my woodgrain
    Hit San Anton', and you know it's all good, mayne

    2011 ©


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BABY BASH Don't Mess With Texas lyrics 10765