Trae Tha Truth, Bun B, Paul Wall, Z-Ro, Kirko Bangz - I’m From Texas FAKE lyrics

Kirk Jerel Randle

[Trae Tha Truth, Bun B, Paul Wall, Z-Ro, Kirko Bangz - I’m From Texas FAKE lyrics]

Chyeah, 'knowmtalmbout?
You ain’t shit if you ain’t screwed up
Fo' real

Houston, Texas, home of DJ Screw
We say know’m saying and what it do?
(And if a nigga don’t like it
Tell them bitches I rep Texas
Topless, in the slab I come thru)
Elbow and Vogues and expensive clothes
Candy paint our cars, big booties on our hoes
(Got diamonds in our mouth
Still represent the south
Put the truck up bitch, I’m swanging four’s)
I sip codeine out the styrofoam
27-10 is the kinda grind on
I ain’t ever love a bitch
So I’m riding alone
Prol'ly when them niggas ain’t on the
Kind of shine I’m on
Big dully trucks with the big rims
And the Cadillac with the fifth wheel
(We from the hood and we keep steel
If you try to jack them
You’re gonna get killed)
I don’t wear my britches tight
I wear them loose
Active Athlete for all my footwear
Homie I got too many shoes
I’m the man in my city
Tell them niggas I won’t lose
Cross that path, and my nigga Hawk
We still gon’ chunk the deuce

You can find me in the hood
In the city that I claim
Moving slow, like the music that I bang
Screwed-screwed up!
Bitch I’m from Texas, yeah
Bitch I’m from Texas
Bitch I’m from Texas, yeah
Bitch I’m from Texas
Gla-glass underneath, beatin’-beatin'
My block
Pop-pop my trunk, chain-chain fulla rocks
Bitch I’m from Texas, yeah
Bitch I’m from Texas
Bitch I’m from Texas, yeah
Bitch I’m from Texas

You can find me in H-o-u-s-t-o-n, ridin' in
Candy trim, on pokey rims, with a ten
And her friend
Trae tha Truth, ridin’ right behind
Two cups full and I’m on my grind
Talkin’ dine, respect my mind
I'll show you boys how Texas get down
Rolex time, top lift back
On my nuts, cause I got that sack
Papered up to the roof, it stacked
Hoes wanna hate but it don’t mean jack
Wheres there’s money that’s where I’m at
That Texas grind, that’s all I know
Bangin’ screw and drankin’ Big Moe
Basically get that dough, bro

Northside, where the boss ride
E'ry day I got play outside (huh?)
Leavin’ them haters mouth wide
Can't be denied when they see me slide
Through the hood like I live there
Shit, I got a few cribs there
All my G’s still chill there
We barbecuin' them ribs there (huh? What?)
Smoke blunts and sip punch
Like it's lunch, every day we do it
Listenin’ to nothin but Texas music
Perfect match for that good fluid
Find me in the hood, in the city I claim
Everybody down in H-town know me mayne
It ain't a choice, I can’t change
I'mma rep the north like I gangbang (Thugga)

Uhh, I gotta bad ass bitch, parked outside
Yella diamond my wrist, if it’s dark outside
Pull a lil’ bitch then I catch ghost
Just a lil’ kid from the ghetto
Never had shit but I got a lil’ bit
When I got a couple hit's under this belt
Throw a H up, nigga
I ain’t tryna belch or nothin’
Ain't got a whole lotta money
But I'm wealthy money
I sip a whole lottta drank
But I'm healthy mami daddy was cool
But he couldn’t really tell me nothin'
Uhh! Everybody think a nigga lucked up
Young Kirko, he done blew up
From the H-town, nigga what’s up?

I’m Port Author, Texas
Let’s get that straight off the top
That’s where the hustlin’ and grindin’
And the hatin’ don’t stop
From the westside to east
We out here duckin’ them cops
And coming dine, candy paint
On them motherfuckin’ chops
It’s the land of the trill
That’s where the whole thang came from
And it just a word
Or where a rapper get his name from
It’s a way of life
And we live to the fullest for years
We represent it with blood sweat and bullets
Ho, I’m from Texas!

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