Waka Flocka Flame - Slippin' lyrics

[Hook] Don't let me catch you slippin', don't let me catch you slippin' Don't let me catch you slippin', don't let me catch you slippin' Caught a n***a slippin' outside of the parkin' lot Young n***a popped his chain and ran in his pockets No mask so you know who got it But you scared to get it back cause you know they 'bout it Don't let me catch you slippin', don't let me catch you slippin' Don't let me catch you slippin', don't let me catch you slippin' Cause you move to Hollywood you ain't good out there Send the Pirus get your sh** took out there Bring a n***a sh** straight back to Atlanta Now them Clay County n***as got kush out there [Verse 1] Heard he in the H, I call J. Prince Jr You ain't from the streets you just rap a lot, n***a Booked for a show in the middle of the hood You ain't good out there, this is Chi-Town, n***a a**hole by nature, f** it I'm Trae Run that chain, n***a, like it's a relay You really p**y that's what the streets say f** who you know n***a, you gotta pay Out in PA, f**in' with cook Heard your favorite rapper got his AP took I'm seein' green dots, puttin' money on books If he broke he hatin' young n***a get money f**in' with the white girl, Playboy bunny Got them n***as lookin' funny have them runnn' in your sh** Caught 'em slippin' pumpin' gas, n***a you a sweet leak Got robbed by the bloods now you runnin' with the crips – Nah You n***as ain't bool Imma call troop, he gon' call big you Now the guns all on you n***a deja vu You a question mark gangster – DJ Clue For that Cuban link chain and that big Rolex You in the wrong scenario – Tribe Called Quest On the jet boy mission all our clips got extensions Tryin' to hold onto your chain, you gon' end up missin' [Hook] [Verse 2] I got shooters in the D, I ain't talkin' bout the Pistons Grand Theft Auto, send them homies on a mission Pay yo' a** a visit braggin' bout your low ticket Shoulda kept your mouth closed, now we know your business Lyin' on your crib like an infant, k** you in an instant I want the sh** for the chicken, I just hit a sweet lick, Charlie Sheen we winnin' Ten toes down with the yoppa, I'm a beast No V-103 like Greg I'm street Don't give up the money, then it's RIP Sendin' head shots like the DMV Half asleep, split your wig like the red sea Got stripes in the street like a referee Have a n***a runnin' like a refugee Show you how to rob, got the recipe Do your homework, find out where he be at Where he hide the money put the D at Run up in yo' sh** we gon' seize that Then break it down on the g pad Better be, boo you don't need that Waka Flocka Flame catch me hangin' where the G's at Rob a dope boy, I ain't worryin' 'bout prison Can't call the police 'bout them bricks in the kitchen [Hook]