lighters You got a problem with us you know its just as hard to find us [Drake - Chorus] Uhhh, since your telling on me Tell the World bout me Ask your girl about me
veteran of the bid'ness Y'all show him some love, talk to 'em Bun [Bun B] Thank y'all for comin to see me this evenin (yeah) Cookin this cajun I laced
love it man. Catch me flippin grippin rain into turnin that trunk on bang. Cause its an underground thang cause im an underground thang. X2 (Bun B) Its
- Bun B] If your gangsta, show your trill If your pimping, show your ring If you balling, show your paper If you shining, show your bling King of
your lighters You got a problem with us you know its just as hard to find us [Drake - Chorus] Uhhh, since your telling on me Tell the World bout me Ask your girl about me
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
gon save me i dont need nobody to save me oh yea and u talkin about pimp p-i-m-p in the flesh u kno what that mean to me what paper in my pocket haha
some love Now when the thug's in the club and he come to spend some dubs Show that nigga some love, show that nigga some love And for the ones in the
the King of the Trill, Bun B on the flip Comin' down, drippin' that candy with grain and grip You see my tippin' my fours, see me bangin' my screws See me
rats so I dugg a ditch for myself what [Chorus] [Bun B:] Well it's the king of the trill Bun B'der you know the name And the streets is like the NBA, I love
in no time I'm givin u all u want, baby all you can take Making love till the headboard break And shorty wanna ride with me, then let me know 'cause we
find us in Texas Never gon leave, cause we love Texas Everything big, up in Texas By the way we walk, you could tell we from Texas [Bun B] It's Big Bun king
with Deadly hand speeders while you niggas can't stand me Come through and reject yo shit like Moka's candy I hear know excuses make sure you understand me
We're in it together, we can make it better Don't sweat a thing, swing with no vendetta I rhyme in a graph style, carve every letter To move every B-boy king
A, B alike, C alike The proper knowledge is needed Wit' Satan off my back, I'm at peace at night No more cops, no more Rodney King's No more peekin
mad noise 2008 a G, a game I'm Ron O'Neil the love seat, sunk deep Lil' niggas bussin' off they punk heat I'll make a massacre, try to rob one of my
that purp, I call my whip the Sac King Cuz' I got it All these hataz wanna grill me, But fuck that I?m bout my money if it kills me (Yeah baby) And
t afford them I'm getting to the money, I need another comma Some of them love the drama More than they love they mama [Verse 12 - Bun B] Welcome to