Grippin Grain - Slim Thug, ESG

Say Slim, what’s the deal baby

(making this money man) uh-huh, true that true that

Check this out, it’s going down over here

On the South, so I’m bout to come over

There on the North and scoop you up

We gotta put it down, boys ain’t feel us in 9−9

With that Braids N' Fades, it’s Y2K baby

Know I’m tal’n bout, candy coated still putting it down

Still swanging and banging ha, boys gon feel us man

Boys gon feel us, wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-what

My love, have you ever seen a

Candy coated Exursion, swang and bang

Still gripping grain

(Northside man huh, Southside what)

See I’m a wide body roller, wood grain remote controller

Blades on Escalades, electric shocks on Range Rovers

Man the game over, when me and Slim pull up

You see us flossing on chrome, with the styrofoam cup

I got a eight and a liter, swanging on the feeter

In the Bentley watching BET, I’m tripping off of Cita

Cristal margaritas, we some block bleeders

My balling tire size, can’t ride in two-seaters

Man I need Excursion, or my Navigator

My big body Denali, sqauatting like a Florida Gator

Tell them playa haters, E.S.G.

I don’t bar

50 cash and dash, like my name was Peter Warren

I parallel parked it, ghetto starts cost to Mars

Man my rims cost more, than some boys cars

Hit the Boulevard, with the nine on my lap-lap

Southside on the map-map, Screw tape tap-tap

Now when I come down, I be throwing up the North shwoing off

Six gallons of gloss, on my 7−9 Boss

I floss the candy cream gleam, when I pull on the scene

My four 18's and screens, got my shit sitting mean

My drop top is a supreme, king of a young team’s dream

Like a diamond it bling-bling, when it’s hit with sun beams

Shoot more spiders in my ring, when I glide up the block

I got a trunk full of knock, about to bust air shocks

I’m shutting down the parking lot, when you see me ride

See me sitting high with pride, sliding on the buck hide

Looking pretty, on a tour all across my city

Sipping drank by the pint, about to bust my kidney

From the North to the South, we gon represent

I’m getting bent behind tint, froze by the air vent

I spent a lot of cash to shine, but it came in handy

Cause like a child, Slim Thug is so in love with candy huh

Now when I come down, I be throwing up the South

Ice in our mouth, Wreckshop and Swishahouse

We got the braids and fades, and ride 4's and blades

Looking laid in the 'Sacci, or the Gucci shades

Candy red smash, syrup make you lean fast

19 with screens, playing Sega Dreamcast

That candy blue or that green, gon keep our slab looking clean

Watching a movie on my screen, when I pull on the scene

In the new Coupe, chunk the deuce out the hoo-doo

Taper fade playa made, Iceberg or FUBU

And I splurge the Iceberg, and drink gallons of syrup

With a Y-2G bird, valeted on the curb

See them boppers still bopping, them choppers still chopping

Them tops still dropping, the trunk still popping

Slim Thug and E.S.G., for the Y2K

Man I still got my braids

Man I still got my fade, huh

Northside man huh, Southside what — 2x