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Swang Remix

Trae
Popularity · Low
Original

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Lyrics

Yeah, this the remix Swang and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep These bitches wanna see a nigga roll Five-fifty flossin', easy tag for the toll Ice cold AC, butterscotch guts Hard top Benz with the roof popped up Every tooth rocked up, nigga swangin' with the Glock 9 Sixty-deuce cocked up, bangin' at the stop sign My mama passed, now my nigga Hoke dogged I'm a mess, every time I think about 'em when I'm drivin' I'ma jet I'm a screwed up affiliator, strictly rollin' red Every time we hit the parkin' lot, we turn heads I been watched by parole, task force, and by the Feds 'Cause they know I gotta pretend, and they know the game ain't dead It's too late, I'm deep up in it, ain't nothin' about me scary Chiefin' in the club, tryna find me somethin' hairy Pimpin' at the bar, bars smokin' on a stogie Since I came home from the pen, it seem like everybody know me The trunk bang with the Bells, when I swang to the left Pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Chrome spokes when I step down the ave in the slab Pull up to the wash, give the Cadillac a bath My chrome lookin' mirror, peanut butter interior Poppin' trunks around, it can't sound no clearer They like, "Damn, he here, that boy Thugger shut 'em down" Them blue boys shinin' all over H-Town I gotta shout my niggas in Houston That ride old schools, and they system is screwin' I'm from New York, so in my city we cruisin' Them '06 whips, with the glittery jewels in I don't go in the club 'til I get all the goons in The bouncers don't frisk, so we get all the tools in And then we cop the bottles, get the bitches to groovin' And won't you tell the DJ it's a Dipset intrusion, Thuggin' Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep I'm the king, I'm the mayor of the city, got the game locked down I roll twelve cars, one with my top down I be swangin' in the candy, they don't understand me Got my slab complete, watch me pull up on Ms. Brandy I'm swangin' in my slab with the peanut butter guts If she hop inside my ride, then the bitch know she gon' fuck I ain't playin' with no skeezer, the ho know I don't need her I pull out my Visa to tease her, not please her They see the diamond shinin', hand on the wood wheel Even though I sold a mill', streets got me hood still They see the diamond shinin', hand on the wood wheel Even though I sold a mill', the streets got me hood still I still swang to the left, '84 sittin' under the Truth And these haters watchin' my moves from the way I butterfly the Coupe And I'm black over alligator, so niggas know that I got it Trunk lift up at the light, but my dropper remainin' squatted Still bangin' my Screw, doin' my thang Shit, it's somethin' I don't peep, but they swear I been in the rain My swangas poke out so wide like I'm ridin' in double lanes Sticks and wide wheels, lookin' like they never stoppin', mayne I'ma Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep Swang, swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop, pop my trunk and yep, yep, yep I'ma swang, and a swang, and a swang to the left Pop my trunk for Fat Pat's death I would give my last breath if I could bring you back Bring Screw back, matter fact, bring the whole crew back Only God can do that, so I'ma leave it alone Movin' on, groovin' to this soothin' song I'm cruisin' alone, still got a Screw tape on Still in the zone, wishin' Corey Blount was home Well I'ma swang, I'ma swang, I'ma swang to the right I'm comin' down candy on swangas, it's super tight When I pull up at the light at a quarter to midnight You're full of fright, scared to death Got her callin' the life flight GK is back on the slab, and turnin' the wheel Once again, the Bun and the Pimp, the return of the trill You can love the haters or hate the lovers, it ain't a thang To them Underground Kings, we still gon' swang I put the H up in the air for that A dub K That fifth wheel, bow down and pray, I'm Brandywine over grey I'm swangin' with Trae, sprayed by my homeboy Eddie That Third Coast custom paint job got me lookin' ready That Swishahouse around my neck, Johnny Dang on my wrist Trunk bang like ABM, with woodgrain on my fist Cadillac by David Taylor with retractable roof Swangin', bangin' on that Screw and throwin' boys that deuce It's Paul Wall