Chamillionaire, Paul Wall, Mistah F.A.B., Bun B - 2 MPH lyrics

"Sippin, sippin on lean, sippin
Sippin on bo'"

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 cocked
So know that I'm ready
I'll die for my family dog but
I'll kill for my fair day
RIP 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 nigga's asses 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, fuck haters and again
Cause we don't play the game to say we play
We play to win

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'"

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 FAB 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
FAB get love where FAB is at
From the Bay to the South
Where them slabs is at
Oakland down to Houston
Only rollin with them savage cats

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'"

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 sexy curves show
Vehicle sittin very low
Pimp that caddy very slow
They like "yeah, Chamillionaire
The realest I done heard holmes"

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 ass 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'

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'"

"Sippin, sippin on lean, sippin
Sippin on bo'"