Testo Who Dat Talkin Down

(Big Steve-R.I.P) Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Me and my partners recline, we put it down Roll, ball, but not out of control, sit swolle A hustler out that Boss Ness Click Crestmont to King, Grandpappy be the lick See these haters kinda fear and they knowin Big ol diamond rings keep the whole damn stage glowin And I keep pourin, eighth of drank in the soda I'm the mothership floater and precise rhyme quoter And it's over, cause me and that Poke, we done told ya Mobbin just like a soldier in a big ol Range Rover Hum-V even wanted me, Big Steve Track records gon show I'm a run the industry With a trick up my sleeve, blow the best of weed And a million dollar stack is what the fuck a nigga need Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround (Big Steve) Eleven in the mornin, I jumped up in my foreign Popped up, cocked up, and my trunk was yawnin Showin high in my ride, wide body finesser Grippin grain down Gessner bout to bust a compressor Tvs, VCs, that's the way it go down Screens falllin, big ballin sittin low to the ground See we floss like true, keep the weed and juice Paul Chevy sittin heavy in a two-door coupe Mash four, top to roll, Bun B, with a long haired freak Marquises in the piece, turn the heat up Cause niggas be jacked, they some cheaters Take the form of block bleeders Drippin paint off the feeder streets Sweepers in Tex, big Benz and the Lex Five pointers in my ear, fifteen on my neck Big face on the check, Navigators and Rovers Twenty inches to the floor, with my V-12 motor Now, who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround (Big E) Who dat be, talkin down from my blind side Crystal grain when I slide in my big ol G ride Naked hide gots to be shown by Big E Haters worried bout a G, but they still can't see me And Paul and P, bout to swoop in the coupe We for real about the loot, watch the glock nine shoot In the hoop, tinted up mafia style Loose lips sank ships, so won't you close em a while Ghetto child from the Southside be wreckin Put my time in the kitchen, now them boys respectin Still jettin off in that silver bullet Capers I'm a pull and keep you niggas gal lookim It's on I be cookin pie, rest is shook and Had to plot and plan, now the money's been tookin Givin the industry a raw naked ass whoopin Can't see us baby, cause all the shows we be bookin (repeat chorus in background) That's for all you ho-ass niggas out there talkin down on real muthafuckin playas...We rollin muthafuckin Range Rovers, Coupes...Silver Bullets, bitch...On Twenties...Wide bodies...You hoes better stop trippin...Roll wit us, or get your muthafuckin ass rolled over...Chevis Entertainment for life...You know who we talkin to, Bitch Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround Who dat mad, who dat talkin down Mad cause them ballers from the South showin pop surround