[Intro: Bun B]
Welcome, to the Texas Bar Association
You gotta be licensed to spit in this motherfucker tonight
Know what I'm saying?
I got my partner Killa Kyleon with me
I got my homie Propain with me
'Bout to spit these bars, n***a, Texas style
You know what I’m saying?

[Verse 1: Bun B]
Say, I'm bigger, I'm better, Blacker and I'm G'd up
Sippin' on Courvoisier straight, and I'm tree'd up
Shoot my shit like James Harden, and now we three'd up
Bun, Killa and Propain, you better speed up
We in the fast lane, got my foot on the gas, man
So roll, or get rolled over, we on your ass, man
I'm on your bumper like you towin' me
It ain't shit that you really showin' me, so recognize ain't no hoe in me
I'm still that n***a that catch a square and shoot the five
I go super live, you better hope that you survive
But once I get started, I don't slow down
Don't be surprised if I knock a door down in your town
I'm certified, local, state and O.T
Ask your neighborhood OG, that n***a know me
And yeah he'll tell you that I'm not the one
I came to chew bubblegum and whoop ass, n***a, and I'm outta gum
[Verse 2: Propain]
Yo, crazy motherfucker they been askin' bout
When he get to snappin', give him space like an astronaut
I pass the block, candy painted slab, you know he ragged the top
A trill n***a hit the scene and had that bitch passing out
Rappin' n***as runnin' 'round like they compared to 'Pac
Your lame ass come around my hood and be a laughingstock
Cause out the mud, we ain't have no shorts, I took the savage route
Clutchin', I'm spazzin' out, hoggin', I ain't passin' shots
Well, I ain't up it, but my brother is
See I'm the cash cow, I'm tryin' to milk this for a hundred mil
See he don't really give a fuck, and that n***a love the SIG
The highest paid n***a, shotgun it like he Russell Wils'
Stupid shit, these East Coast hoes love the Houston kid
Tip the driver extra, blowing smoke off the Brooklyn Bridge
Water on my chest, diamonds lookin' like a pool to swim
Money talkin', I ain't sayin' shit if it ain't lucrative

[Verse 3: Killa Kyleon]
Tied back on that big body, bad bitch with a thick body
VVSs on his body, no cane but the stick by me
Thumbin' through it, got a rich hobby
Big bezel got the wrist poppin'
Blowing money, got a weak stomach
Need Pepto, ain't shit stoppin'
Big trippin' got your bitch watchin', all eyes on me, I'm 2Pac-in'
Big racks in my two pockets, off Ford Field, need new pockets
Pull up on ya, coupe topless
Let the money talk, that's the new topic
I'm the man, n***a, I'm the man, find a lie, that's the true topic
Ladies love me like Cool James
Lamb truck, that's the new thing
Hittin' corners with your boo thang, Balenciaga, no shoe strings
I'm a killer like Ghostface but I ain't rappin' with the Wu-Tang
Grinding hard, that's the method man
Spot twenty bands on the new chain
Big bill, blue honey buns, hit Chase, bang, make a money run
Difference is I ain't chillin' for it
I just hustle hard and the money come
Big bag, I ain't breakin' leaves
Like Kaepernick, she gon' take a knee
Send a bitch, get a quarterback
That's big pepper, she gon' pay the fee, yeah