Mistah F.A.B. - 2mph lyrics

"Sippin, sippin on lean, sippin, sippin on bo'" [Bun B] Comin down grippin grain, diamonds up against the wood Tops drop, blades chop, trunk is popped, I'm lookin good Swangin down the boulevard, chunky deuce, the fifth is shinin The queen is ridin shotgun and Finger's behind me So never you mind me, I'm just hustling, grindin My pockets are heavy and my diamonds are blindin My pistols are loaded and co*ked so know that I'm ready I'll die for my family dog but I'll k** for my fair day R.I.P. to my baby bro, UGK until It ain't no stopping this movement, you lose on the real Cause we keeping it trill, that's from ashes to dust We got paper to make and fake n***a's a**es to bust If you down for your hood, and you bangin that Screw Put your sets in the sky, cause this one is for you Keep on keepin it true, f** haters and again Cause we don't play the game to say we play, we play to win [Hook: Mistah F.A.B.] {X2} Leanin to the side, you cain't speed through Two miles per hour, so everybody sees you Ridin by myself, with the pistol in the do' "Sippin, sippin on lean, sippin, sippin on bo'" [Mistah F.A.B.] Candy on my big wheel, yeah man I'm still a kid Twenty-six, rims same age as me, can you dig? Ridin down the block, knockin pictures off your wall Just showin off my grill made by Paul Wall Alpine speakers in my grill on blast Like my boys in Texas, hittin corner on them slabs Seat laid back, you know how us pimps be Keep your head up Bun B, rest in peace Pimp C A mill' on mine rolled back to back and young millionaires we haven't scratched Rhyme through the hood and habitat, candy paint look like some cabbage patch Haters hot, they mad at that, Chamillionaire, how F.A.B. get that? Two dimes in a car, how bad is that? King of the jungle, you an alley cat Prince of the coast brought Cali back, just threw some D's on a Cadillac Smoke so much, got cataracts, been rollin up for a matter of fact F.A.B. get love where F.A.B. is at, from the Bay to the South where them slabs is at Oakland down to Houston, only rollin with them savage cats [Hook] {X2} [Chamillionaire] {*Over Hook: Chamillitary mayne, yeah*} It's gon' be, F-A-C, T to the Feds gon' mess with me And F-A-B, when they see, mixtape money yes they pay me Mugabe, Inspector G, bring 'em all cause they cain't get me Ten vehicles parked in the yard, pick your choice, I'll get that key Take that jet out to West, let's swang and get our swerve on Hit that strip in my whip, gon' strip and let them s**y curves show Vehicle sittin very low, pimp that caddy very slow They like "Yeah, Chamillionaire, the realest I done heard holmes" [Paul Wall] I'm leanin to the side sideways, sittin crooked My Jolly Rancher paint got all of the people lookin I'm beatin down the block, givin the streets an a** whoopin Peep the way a player move, take notes lil young-un I'm movin slow mo', leanin off a potent fo' Pistol in my lap, plus another one in the side do' You know I'm just a young hustler all about my doe Gettin cake and stackin up that paper, I need mo' [Hook] {X2} "Sippin, sippin on lean, sippin, sippin on bo'"