Trae Tha Truth, Paul Wall, Chamillionaire - Oh No lyrics

Oh no, there go them Texas boys banging
In a fo' do'
Top fell off the drop, crawling on 84's
Think of taking my slab
Baby I don't think so
My heat under my seat
And I don't love you hoes
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low
Five percent of tint
But still my screens gon glow
These haters be in my mix
And these boppers be on my dick
Everytime, I come round the corner

I'm from the land of opportunity
In God we trust but haters in my mix
Got me paranoid and disgust
I'm scoping out my side mirrors
When my car's in park it's after dark
And my slab is fresh meat to these sharks
Boys thinking I been drinking


So I'm off my note
But I got seventeen surprises
Tucked inside of my coat
See me strut through the parking lot
On 22's plus
It's a must I make all haters, eat my dust
Them jump-out boys
Waiting trying to catch me slipping
I ain't tripping
Grain ain't the only thing
That I'm gripping
Boys jacking with these tow trucks
Thinking they slick
But take a trip to South Lea
And end up in a ditch
They got my Purple People Eater once
The next day i bought a Range Rover cash
And a new set of fronts
I've been on feet for months
I'm taking haters to lunch
Paul Wall and Trae
Hit em with that one-two punch

When I flip in my slab
I'm fin to beat they back
Off like I was Lennox
Sitting low and tinted on chrome
Gangstafied till I'm finished
I'm bout to diminish these haters
When my trunk start waving blue over gray
Side of my drop with
Six TV's I'm displaying
They hate that I'm shining
With the fifth wheel falling
Flying down the block
But if one of these haters wanna jack me
Slugs gon be flying out the Glock
I click for no reason
This season my slab is staining they brain
And I be known for getting reckless in Texas
Gripping on grain forever be pimping
84 tipping all through the South
Grilling boppers all through my tint
With diamonds all in my mouth
They all in my mouth
Looking stupid when I burn right past em
Cause some of these broads be living shife
And setting up for the jacking
But not today
Cause Trae gon be flipping on top of his game
We guerillas I'm mobbing with
Ain't no stopping me mayn
When I'm in my fo' do' solo
The slab is bound to get tossed
And if you trying to be competition
Then you bound to be getting lost

Now look how your life stares down
A barrel and I swear
I wouldn't let a platinum ghost
Jack me in a nightmare
I got that paranoia for you
Trigger finger gon' destroy you
And if that trigger finger don't get you
Get the number to my lawyer
I hold court with Ben Franklin
I talk with my bread
Soon as I let him out that briefcase
It's off with your head
Can't negotiate with the heat or
Neither talk to the lead
It'll talk to your head when it's
Finished you'll walk with the dead
I call the police they'll probably get him
By the end of the week i call the streets
They gon get him before the end of the street
With the end of the heat
To set flame to the end of his sweet
The end of his feet
Will be poking out the end of a sheet
Hold up I'm just saying though
Has this happened before? Naw but no law
Gon' keep these hollows from
Entering your jaw
If it's my money or my family
Or my woman or my car
I'm headed to that blood bank
I'm bout to make a withdrawal

When I'm coming round that corner
All you haters, better get up out of my range
Run up on me, if you wanna
I ain't gon play no games
At all when I'm taking my aim
Cause you're gonna be a goner
You thinking of taking mine
Late night when the 84's swang
I know you niggas in the game
Gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain
And he can charge it to the game
When I'm coming round that corner
Hmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm hm hm hm
Run up on me, if you wanna
Hmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm hm hm hm
Cause you're gonna be a goner
Hmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm hm hm hm
I know you niggas in the game
Gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain
And he can charge it to the game