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Happy New Year’s, it’s two thousand and eight

Let’s get this cake

Hahahaha… It’s a movement! (Chamillitary mayn!)

I’m up early in the mornin, thinkin bout gettin this money

Lord knows, I gotta get that paper

The hustlers told me that I gotta go and get it

Now I’m gettin it the best way I know how

I won’t let you down, won’t let you down

I won’t let you down



From the underground to majors, I’m a pro at gettin paper

So you know a Texas playa gotta shine (we gotta shine baby!)

We ain’t worried about you fakers; we for sure gon keep it gangsta

Ridin four’s and shakin haters all the time (that’s all the time!)

RIP to Big Moe, HAWK, Pat and DJ Screw

You know that we gon keep it trill and hold it down

(you know we gon continue to hold it down baby!)

Cause the hustle’s never slowin, we gon grind and keep it goin

(gotta keep it goin for all the fallen soldiers!)

And you know we’ll always keep you on our mind

We won’t let you down (RIP PIMP!)
Sun down til the sun up, you know big Bun up

Tryna get his paper and his gun up, can’t let these haters get one up

On me, or try to run up, gotta leave ’em done up and did up

You wanna get down, get up, I’ll leave you hit up and split up

So pay attention, sit up, and keep your eyes on the target

That’s Bun Beater the king, he be goin the hardest

Not only is he the trillest, but he’s also the smartest

Gangsta slash rap artist and he won’t let you down
{AY! }

Let me tell you a lil somethin bout a G like me

I gotta a whole bunch of money and a whole bunch of weed

Rap ain’t dead, the trap ain’t dead

We still gettin bread in my hood with D-Red

Tell me what rapper, you know with a grip in the bank account with five in it

You losin fuck, I’m Scrooge McDuck, my money piles, I dive in it

Pimpin and mackin, I’m stackin my paper, you haters better fall back

Is the south whack? hell no, and rest in peace to Big Moe

The cheaper my work, my beeper alert, all day and all night

We ride gray, we sell white, we buy haze and pour up Sprite
{UH! YEAH! }

From writin these lyrics, flippin these pages

Hopin you hear it, sit in amazement

One of the realest, one of the greatest, ever to drop, rockin the stages

I dedicate this, to all the people who hated

Thought for a second that I wouldn’t make it

You were mistaken, you gotta face it

Rep That Block, ‘H’ in ya faces

This for my town, promise that Rob will not let you down

Times is ugly, you love me then trust me, I must be the one who will bring back the crown

Just look around, a man from a swat who

Kept it real when the game said not to

Bring back rap, I think I’m bout to, don’t worry you know I got you
{I’m FAMOUS! }

It’s LIL Ken, re-reppin 210

That’s San Anton, «huh? «, well act like you knew then

They askin «who? when? «, nigga stop playin

I stick my dick in your mouth, and fuck what you sayin

And check my resume and see that I’m all the way live

That’s right; I need the whole Pacific to swallow my pride

I put my city on my back, then put it on the (map)

It’s Mr. Deuce Dime, I won’t let you down
Slow loud and bangin, we back in the loop

Fresh out the pen, now I’m back in the booth

Only thing I let down is the top on the coupe

Boys hatin on the H, but we still gettin loot

You do it for the fame; I do it for the block

For the ones in the grave, and the ones on lock

We next up lookin for the number one spot

Tell them other rap cats they can keep the hip-hop

Money don’t stop, I’m a get it all day

New paint on the whip, insides all gray

Other boys left, but the south gon stay

Ain’t no way you gon forget about Jay-

Ton, same ol’ Hoover gangsta

Got up in the game, to expose the wankstas

ABN gang keep a loaded chamber

Tell the whole world that they ass in danger
{HA! }

I’m on my block around the clock tryna get it

If it get you paid, I did it, got caught, got acquitted

Got out, and got back up on my grind again

Cause you gotta play the game if you tryna win

And hustle money ain’t for sure, so I ain’t tryin to spend

Cause the minute you come up, you’re back down again

I promise I won’t let you down momma

When it’s the first of the month, I’ll be around momma

Everybody know that I spit the flow

That make a playa wanna fire up and hit the dro

Or pour up real big and shake before

And knock off a Lamborghini, and lift the doors

Right now they yellin out «game is sold! »

Killin that remix, getcha dough

Do it for the Fat Pat, Screw and Moe

BG, Gator, HAWK and the Mafio

And everybody know I don’t play no games

I am off the chain, I got awesome chains

I got awesome things, to get me awesome brain

When I pull up at the club, I be flossin mayn

Fat Rat With The Cheese, from the SUC

I don’t gotta brag, I’m a triple OG

All the H-Town proud of little ol’ me

Give the Lil’ O a rest, I could flip the whole key, WHOA!
This rainy day, manage the workout plan

I’m countin so many hundreds; I need another pair of hands

Black Colleywood, where the fiends the only fans

Sell it out, Riesco, supply and demand

My elevator goin up, how could I ever let ’em down?

550 takin off, swear it just left the ground

What’s the value of a dollar, if you couldn’t pay your bills?

All we know is power, now tell me what life is, YUNG REDD!
I’m up early in the mornin, thinkin bout gettin this money

Lord knows, I gotta get that paper

The hustlers told me that I gotta go and get it

Now I’m gettin it the best way I know how

I won’t let you down, won’t let you down

I won’t let you down


AY! }

Po, Yo, real get gutty

Block 4-oh, 3 wheelin, niggas gunnin

Put your cleats on cause it’s fin ta get muddy

It is what it is and we comin for the money

Y’all know me

I’m a nigga that’ll be in your home, just like a nigga got a door key

Do it like Simpson, ‘fore I let a nigga hold me

Shake a nigga pockets, ‘fore I let a nigga owe me

One for the money, two for the hoe

Three for the 4’s with the rubber band vogues

SUC, MOB, Hurricane Sensei fin ta knock down doors

City on my back like brand new clothes

Album on the way, underground in stores

I don’t let niggas down, I shut niggas down

Crowd booed me, I’m next to blow
{AY! }

Pound for pound, ups and downs, but I’m still real

Chasin paper, money runnin like a treadmill

I’m just a G, in the street game, we raise numbers

I never let you down, I never disappoint ya

I’m up extra early, posted like a war soldier

My hustle hard, like I cut it with some baking soda

Heart of a gangsta, to the grind mayn, I’m so committed

Lord knows if I see the paper, I’m a get it
{H-TOWN! }

When Cham sent me the track, he had Pimp C on the song

‘Fore ESG could spit on this remix, we seen Pimp C was gone

‘Nother king taken off the throne, told Bun B he’s not alone

Might not be here in the flesh and bone

New address, yeah heaven is home

Make sure we carry that legacy on

Like MOE, in every song

Put they name in the trunk, then we gon pop and swang

In the ‘llac or the Chevy on chrome

Like Vince Young, I run through songs

Slow it down like Screw did homes

ESG a million sold independent, I ain’t talkin ringtones
Here come the Trouble, so move

Can’t knock my hustle, gon lose

Got twice the muscle, paid dues

Twice a grind to prove

I make moves like my name was Tom Cruise

Mission Impossible, impossible to fool

Down south baby, I’ll show you what it do

I never let you down H-Town, I’m comin through

In the cherry lollipop drop, Gucci flip-flop

Posted up on the block, and my hustle you can’t knock, NIGGA!
24/7, 365, tryna get rich is on our mind

Houston, Texas, we ain’t nothin but some go getters

And some trendsetters, and we stayin on our grind

Remember when the world said down south rappers couldn’t rap

Now the down south rappers all across the map

Represent my city, and I’m a wear it on my back

It’s official, goddamn right, the south is back

Even though we ain’t never really went nowhere, we always been here

We make good music, and we stack big money and we act bad, all goddamn year

Gotta give it to us, cause if not we gon take it

And never give it back, that’s just how it’s gon go

It’s been in there for years: Houston, Texas

But ain’t a damn thing change, you can still count on Z-Ro, HA!
If you’re lookin for the south, you can tell ’em I’m home

On the block, you can tell ’em I ain’t leavin til it’s gone

Thinkin I ain’t, you can tell ’em they wrong

When I pull up, blast house with the roof half gone

If it come to gettin paid, understand that I got ’em

Sit back, broke, I’m a show ’em that I’m not

Now in the hood, four times, tryna rock

Yea, I’m from the streets, no way you finna block them

Mouth full of rocks, yea, money well blown

Every time I talk now, money will show

But just because I rap, don’t think I’m flak

I hop in all black, and still run up in your home

Trae the Truth, I got hustle and flow

I do it for the boys tryna hustle and score

Every hour, every day, til my body gets sore

One hundred percent that my hustle is swole
{AY! }

I’m so destined to be the greatest true, symbol of what my state is of

Little bit of Chad Butler (PIMP!), mixed with a little bit of Robert Davis (SCREW!)

PKT rep for the H til the day that they lay me off in my coffin

I’m a continue the legacies of Big Mello and both of the Hawkins

I do it for love, you do it for dough

You do it for fame, I do it for Moe

Do it for the hood, Acres Homes 44

Family over everything, get it do it for the Foe (FOE!)

To hell with not lettin you down, I’m tellin ya now, I ain’t lettin you go

For better or worse, until death do us part, I’m a rep for the H in the cold
From day one I repped my city, New York, got booed out there

Best part was one year later, my group sold out Madison Square

It’s hard but it’s fair, you ride for me I ride for you, regardless fool
No matter what it is, with Willie D on your team it’s gon be kinda hard to lose

Had a rapper come down, I hit him with a big, cause he was talkin trash

His bodyguard jumped off stage, (what did you do?) got dead in his ass (ha!)

Go tell that to all those skanks, that think we’re all about candy paint

High cappin, catch around, H-Town, I won’t let you down
{AY! AY! }

Okay I’m G-boy fresh, way flyer than the next guy

Southside rider, if you with me throw your sets high

From Sunnyside to the Park, back to the Southwest side

But if you got a problem with it you can GFY (GO FUCK YOURSELF!)

We the best and the rest is BFI

Been down with Paul & Cham since the Get Ya Mind Correct times

We all grinders, and this is go get it music

GRIT Boys, we’ll never let you down Houston
{YEAH! UH! }

Me and my hustle bag, on the block, on the clock

24/7, you better shit or get up off the pot

Mayn I’m from Hustle City, gots to keep my hustle with me

At all times, I got my mind on my grind pimpin

I never let ya down, let ya fall or let ya drown

Cause I’m a go for mines, rain or shine, every time

Corey Mo gon get his, so I hope you get yours

You gots to eat to live partner, we ain’t got no choice
H-Town, got it on my back

Chrome 84’s on the Cadillac

I stack stacks and stack plaques (stack plaques, stack plaques)

Ice Age, we run the town

Ice Age, we shuttin ’em down

As long as I make it multiply (multiply, multiply)

My new album is on the way

When you say my name, you say I’m paid

H-Town, we here to stay (here to stay, here to stay) (MIKE JONES!)

A millionaire, can you match that?

Two time plaque, can you add to that?

Eleven cars, can you handle that? (handle that, handle that)

I got stock in my block, I’m a jock that rock and I ain’t talkin MTV

My mp3’s won’t let you down, got it locked down like Timby Three’s

7-1-3, 2-8-1, 8-3-2, that’s what I claim

See my aim’s, to shut down every MC that’s caught up in this game

Mean as a rock, GT don’t play, I scratch and mix and rap all day

H-TX comin soon, super tight, UGK

Classic material, gotta milk this game like cereal

I’m smooth like butter, but not Parkay, my reign is so imperial
I’m up early in the mornin, thinkin bout gettin this money

Lord knows, I gotta get that paper

The hustlers told me that I gotta go and get it, get it

Now I’m gettin it the best way I know how

I won’t let you down, won’t let you down

I won’t let you down

I own my mansions, fuck a belly, sun shinin on my pinky

When it come to independent, who you think invented?

I’m a money makin problem, don’t believe me, ask Asylum

Down to the border or Harlem, bitch, you can ask about him (AY!)

I drop the top in that Lex again (YEAH!)

It wouldn’t be H-Town without Mexicans (UH-UH!)

And it ain’t been the same since they put ’em in the ground (ain’t been the same!)

To Screw, Moe, HAWK and Pat: we won’t let you down

Got an old school, tan wood, my grind’s harder than a canned good

My fan base expands hoods, so don’t question their fan hood

I smelled the money, knew the odor

I’m a rep H-Town I’m the newest soldier

Kid with the arch ooo he polar, hustle harder than Louis Scola

Reppin the block, cause the block where I hang

CD get copped, cause it’s hot and it bang

From the beat to the rock, kid, rocks his thang

Won’t let you down like a top in the rain

Got fans that’s Crip that’ll bang that metal

Fans so Bloody that they claim vessel

Fans like dyin they change for the better can’t let you down, never, ever

I won’t let down my city, I can’t let down my fans

Got my Money Morris on, from a boy to a man

Mayn, hard body ‘iotti, do you know what I do

Wreck mics go hard, man I pity the fool, my city the fool

A whole lotta gorillas here like RAWR!, my cities a zoo

Southeast Beach, welcome to my town

Where the slab’s like a crab when it’s movin around

Lotta rappers used to be the movement, I’m movin’ up and they movin down

Black girl in my lap, girl, in that ‘llac girl, when I move around

I lied, made a promise to my town, (I won’t let you down)
Let you down, never that

The top on the drop now that’s a bet

Raw LT, raw like that

Countin my stacks in the back of the ‘llac

The queen of my city, yes I is

It go both ways when I rock my hips

Collect more figgas, roll with gorillas

Can’t let the track Breathe cause my name not Jigga

Roll with my fam, BBH, category six, gon evacuate

I rep for my hood, dubs all in ya face

And I would appreciate if you’d give me my space (yeah!)

Cause y’all ain’t talkin bout nothin (naw!)

Y’all lame chicks steady bumpin (what?)

Raw LT, I hold the crown ain’t no takin it from me
{GHEA! }

G-Boy general, salute me in ya presence (ghea!)

Ghetto gospel, gon call me the reverend (ghea!)

Words hit you in your head like Excedrin

Tone down your voice, you’re talkin to a veteran

This for HAWK, we gon grind til the last lick

That bastard, flow classic

Game sick, and famous like Magic

Pocket full of bread, actin like I never had shit
The streets is talkin and they tellin me to go get that cake

No time to waste, I can’t wait, cause I got bread to break

These boys is fake, they bumpin they gums, sayin they payin dues

But they preoccupied up in the mall, buyin they gal shoes

I’m motivated by the diamond chains and ice grills

The Johnny Dang watch in the Cadillac on vogue with cradle wheels

I’m cash collectin, still trill, chasin the dollar bill

My appetite is never filled, for chasin after these meals, I GOTTA GET IT!
Lil’ Boss, tryna get a plaque to the house

ABN representin, I’m all about the cross

Every time I touch a microphone it’s all about the south

I be wreckin the feature, that’s why I’m always takin off

I be up in the mornin for the first worm

I make ’em get it straight like ya first perm

I’m a G in the streets, you better first learn

I’m paid, still spendin what I first earned

When it come to doin this, I’m doing it for the trap

In the bottom of the gutter, I’m reppin it for the map

Feed me the clip, I’m protected by the strap

It’s real over here, give a damn about a rap

I won’t let my state down and that’s for sure

TEXAS we in the do’

Raw nigga hizzout, it’s about to show

If it ain’t gangsta, then it’s got to go
I keep a glock in the glove box, where the title’s at

I don’t sleep, I don’t eat G, if I don’t mash

Writin raps, rockin shows, that’s a minor task

The hardest part is acceptance, today could be my last

Grid Iron, Grit Boys, HAWK was my mentor

Focus on the future, sights sharper than a pitchfork

Down with Cham since the Color Changin Click days

Ghetto Reality, take a seat and witness history
Yeah, I worked the nine-to-five, punchin the clock

Check-to-check, wearin a uniform, that didn’t work out

So I left that alone, but then my stomach started rumblin

Ate oatmeal for days, what you know about it?, nothin!

Then that call came from Koop to come back to the streets (come back to the streets!)

Signed the deal, bought a house and a slab in the same week (hold up!)

Now I’m Swervin like Boosie when I’m ridin the streets

Smokin dro, climbin the ladder like ESG (keep goin mayn!)

Nice flows and shows, oh for sure, we grind

On that row, stackin this dough and autograph signin

And I gotta remind ’em, the name that’s runnin the game

(Tell ’em the name they say is runnin’ the game… Chamillitary mayn!)
Our time has come, and your time has passed

Get out the way while I grind for cash

Money in the bank, and the rest be stashed

When it’s all done, I will not be last

Y’all know me, y’all gon’ see

Ben Franklin is my homie

EYE’s is all on me

So Lay It Down, like ‘Ball & G

Naw, I can’t be commercial, show ’em how to bring it to the streets for all my dogs

Ridin dirty, flyin birdie, pop the trunk when I pass the laws

«Houston do we have a problem? «, obviously the answer’s «naw»

Ball hoggers won’t pass the ball, I’m a steal that rock, then pass to y’all
{YEAH! }

The OG’s back from the system, picture me lettin you down

Can’t see that day ever happenin, not at all, no way and no how

I’m from the gutter, you from the gutter, we still gon make it

Still gon represent what the streets taught us, it’s hard to shake it

Where we go, we take it, we chosen for holdin it down

Respect the hustle, we gettin it, yeah they knowin us now

Big Mike I’m one hunnid, for real, ain’t no hoe type can see me

A born Gert Town hound, who (won’t let you down)

Spit for my ghetto children, I’d die just to be their voice

No one else there to chant for them and I’d die just to be their choice

My focal point be this vocal joint that I lay as guidelines

My savior be my example, shinin after I die
{YEAH! }

Money my motive, my mission is to be holdin

At least two hundred million and more, cause if I’m closin

I want it to where it’s set up, for the next generation of Jordan’s

So that next generation of Jordan’s, can have it easy

That’s why I’m out here movin this work

Create a legacy, avoidin Kennedy’s curse

My heart beats heavenly, I love you son for all that it’s worth

And down to die if it came to the worst (talk to the streets ‘Face!)

This for my niggas in struggle, just know I love you

Regardless to the pressure, I’m knowin you got to hustle

Cause nothin came to us easy, they planted us in tombstones

They quick to bury us niggas, that’s how they do homes

My uncle told me, tell my niggas to read

Cause we in danger, got every city under a siege

A total stranger, could say you’ve sold a couple of keys

And got you locked and they won’t let you leave
{You call in some cars, I be in jets

Google «Pimp C», I’m all over the internet

That paint over the ‘llac is so glass

UGK for life, I need to teach a pimpin class}, UH!

Cause I’m, gettin my paper, reppin my house

Say what I want to out my mouth

Fifteen years, I’m what it’s about

Atlanta the south, that’s no doubt

Pimp a snitch, you’se a clown

Say my name, it’s gon go down

Rent your car, you rent your house

Kiss that girl, I been in ya mouth, UH!
Thanks to DJ Dwrek for these lyrics
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