311 - What You Gone Do lyrics

(*talking*) S.L.A.B., Slow Loud And Bangin' n***as thought we was missing in action But now we back in they face Tell me what the f** they gon do, now that we (*Ludacris*) We bout to take off, so F what you heard Because my side mirrors flap, like a f**ing bird And for the fools we gon clock one, and we'll pop one Cause my folk riding shot gun, with a shotgun - 2x [Hook - 4x] Tell me what you gon do When, I'm coming for you [Jay'Ton] Who a n***a 17, that you know with a strap It's Jay'Ton, coming from the lower part of the map Watch what you say b**h, cause your phones is tapped I'm riding in my Buick, creeping with my heat in my lap When you see me coming move, 'fore you get ranned over Can't you see, that the Down South is taking over If you don't believe me b**h, I'ma have to smoke you You gon be that next witness, meeting up with Jehovah Tell me what you gon do, when I grab my tool And I co*k that b**h back, fin to (act a fool) So tell me what you gon do, when I swoop the block And kick your do' with thugs, that'll (act a fool) [Lil B] You a chump a** n***a, that I really don't bar That's why I'm grabbing a Mack, letting off shots through your car Who I are, Lil Beezie fa sheezie I leave em greasy When you get out of line, I promise you gon have to see me Believe me, I bust rounds until my clip is empty You tell me f** around and rush with a pitbull attitude, not friendly You rookie, that's sweeter than a fresh odor spanked Ma cookie Better duck before I bust, and leave you wetter than some hot p**y [Mike D] Give a f**, n***a Pulling up slow-mo, ready to buck n***a I'm out the rooftop let out duck n***a, too late you got stuffed That's what they get for playing with me, I don't give a f** Mike D Corleone, b**h I'm back home Playing spot back, so n***a bring that sh** on That Glock your own, gon be hurting tonight Hit it ghetto-burg yellow tape, working tonight I'm like good yay dog, if you serve it right But don't play my nerves n***a, I'm the nervous type I got a itchy itchy itchy, itchy trigga finger Let the K drop out, a hundred shots in you [Trae] Hit your block, in a black mask On they a**, flipping in a Nova Coming out, strapped up like a soldier When I hit the lights, you know it's over Ain't no drivebys, on you wise guys On the low, coming and slide guys In a Maab, labeled no guide lines In all black, with no bean pies Tell me what you gon do, when I'm coming They be coming the rhythm, I ain't bumping And I bob and I weave, and a left And a right quick blow, till your head be lumping And it ain't, no Baretta When I'm face to face, coming to get you Hit you with Guerilla Maab, and that S.L.A.B. squad With red dots, so we don't miss you [Hook - 4x] [J-Doe] I'm so tired, of being humble (humble) I'm fins to hit your block, in that Matchbox black Hummer Hit the lock, and let it rumble (let it rumble) 'Fore it's missiles twist and turn, plus them hoes tumble Hold the rock, we never fumble (never fumble) When it hit, you feel the burn scream and just mumble It's S-Dub Vaulters (Vaulters) Walking around, with two toasters on the holsters And if it's drama, I'm the closest (I'm the closest) Don't need to invite us, b**h we the hostess It's Dub-V and S.L.A.B. (S.L.A.B.) Somebody call Sound Scan, cause these tracks getting S.L.A.B-ed [311] Y'all already know, we the cream of the crop Whatever b**h that's throwing his gums, then that's the b**h we gon drop We keeping it hotter than a sauna, your whole click fin to get rolled over Like a stick of dro when I blow you, left-right uppercut when I fold you S-L-A-B repping, betting none of you n***as can come and bump with it Holding it down throughout H-Town, all the way back to Tex-City 3 let it get loose again, S.L.A.B. hitting hoes choosing and Running these old turtle a** n***as, back up in they shells again We bout to blow you to the table, crush the tension We done had enough of the small talk, and enough lip from you b**hes So keep your smiles and kisses, friendly sh** out that b**hes I'm the type of n***a that'll turn a so-called gangsta, back religious [Big Pup] Here I come, coming to get you You n***as don't get the picture, till 40 rounds come hit you I'm the hard n***a, in this b**h with Maab n***as And we disregard n***as, cause we taking charge n***a You was running your mouth uh, now that's gon Make a n***a run in your house, and put the gun in your mouth I see the fear in your eyes, b**h If I so much as see a tear in your eyes, I'm gon materialize You better realize, me and my n***as we be Guerillas Some go-getters, so if I want you I'ma go get you I'm bout to go n***a, nothing else matter When the 40 hit your brain, won't nothing else splatter [Hook - 4x]