E.S.G. (rapper), Slim Thug, Z-Ro - We Ain't Trippin' No Mo lyrics

Too many haters
Still try to take me off of my game
See a young playa gripping wood
Looking good hold up, man we off the chain
See us coming down, and we're holding
It's the Z-Ro, Slim Thug and ESG
We don't give a damn about none of these hoes
We all about our do'
We ain't tripping no mo'

Armed and dangerous, wanna spit them flows
Swang with us, if you wanna sit low
The game of life be shife, better think twice
Aren't they nice, get killed hoe
For real though
Kick your ass with a steel toe
What can I say
You niggas gay you need a deal though
Work my wheels so
Twenty three minutes from your town
Udaville hoe, 23 inches from the ground
Hold up now look around
Playboy you don't want no drama
Off the chain and untamed
Orangatangs out the jungle
Make the loudest nigga mumble
Baller blockers can't stop this
Wanna throw me out the game
Like my name Rasheed Wallace
Hold up, blow the whistle that's a tech
We got home court advantage
This year we bout to wreck
Hit up nigga sets, snap they neck
Take to the chest
Trying to fuck with the best
Invisible set, baguettes
Rolex when I flex in the Lex with the big S-S
Now who's next, you gon understand it
Back in the tour van
With Jennifer Lopez panties in my hand ha

Z-Ro the Mo City Don
Bigger my bricks and profit's
It's evident that I'm a
President to the game
You can't baller block it
You can't block my ball
When I get a flick a screen gon fall
Give me fo' corners, and I punish em all
Never gon fall off
When I haul off in the L dog
My block my bread and butter
Keeping my pockets nice and thick
Whether be solid or whether be soft
The game ain't never been known to quit
We went from riches to rags, rags to riches
While maintaining
Composure rock and witness these fellas
As they was switching
Investing in plenty bars and stocks
Still got money coming out the block
I scheme to plot to the cream of the crop
Fuck a bitch we gon leave a bald spot
They trying to take me off my game
Wanna see me not having thangs
Mo City Texas Ridegmont mayn
Killa codeine and mary jane
Over the plate it's time to bat
It's out of the park I told you that
Lucky Al Gore couldn't hold it back
Now I gotta calm down with a doja sack
Z-Ro, Slim Thug and ESG, we in it to win
Mechanical gorgeous everytime our
Records spin, mr hater

I feel like in real life
They thinking I'm Santa Clause
I hide from mo' hoes and mo' foes
Than I hide from the laws
They in my face with no pause
Steady trying to make a G fall
Like Tupac fuck all y'all
Cause I need my cash tall
Trying to hate on mine you outta line
I shine because I grind
I keep that money up on my mind
For the umpteenth time
When I write a rhyme I rhyme real
And getting green is what I feel
A five figga nigga that want a mill
Before my record deal
Still trying to get it
I hustle and can't quit it
My target in range
Is up to me to aim and hit it boy forget it
If you think I'm falling off of my game
You off the chain
You must of fell and lost your brain
I maintain and look good
And grip wood through my hood
Fuck a hoe I'm bout my do'
Let's keep it understood
While these haters falling off
I'ma be falling in big falling in the Benz
Solo fuck friends cause uh