Po'Up Justice lyrics

by

Paul Wall


Welcome to texas, third time with Paul Wall
It’s going down, I keep em dime
And keep them 9’s, my diamonds shine, I keep em blind
Reeking sh*t like it’s 99, that’s how we do it in the H Town
f*ck it, I’ma go and slow it down
Pass the 4, pour it now
Still here, haters the in the rear
Anytime I disappear, old school, plenty coast is clear
Still count c notes all year
I’m balling, I’m a shining star
Y’all n*ggas is fallen
Them bad b*tches still calling
Went from 4’s to rarri crawlin
Haulin ass on the highway, I get high everyday
I stay fly everyday, f*ck your b*tch in every way
H town that’s where I stay, still rippin like I used to
Still hot like I used to, still stuntin like I used to
Still comin through something new
Like I done the last 10 plus
You n*ggas alright, but you ain’t us
Push v12, eat my dust
I’m hoggin, back in texas just came from New Orleans
I’ve been doing this sh*t so long man, I’m so tired of balling

[Hook]
We be tippin, codeine sippin, never trippin
We just getting money
South Park, Fifth Ward, MoCity, Acres Homes
Welcome back to texas, go and grab your styrofoam, and pour up
We be tippin, codeine sippin, never trippin
We just getting money
Southwest, Homestead, Greenspoint, Yellowstone
Welcome back to Texas, go and grab your Styrofoam, and pour up

b*tch I’m thawed, sideways like packy out
Broads wanna wipe me down like a paper towel
I’m at the gallery, I’m followed by a kush cloud
Paper stacked, I love to pile
So I buy what I want just like prowl
Pull up and that engine growl, in vale and that panty drop em
Slim thugga right behind me in the traffic stop him
I’m in the Frenchy's drive through in a Maserati
These boys talking full of sh*t like a porta potty
Hold up, I’m sittin crookin on chrome
Blowin stank, I’m stackin bank, bluetooth hands free phone
Sippin paint, my spite paint, my jewelry ain’t no lone
If you talkin down on the texas, better leave me the f*ck alone
My money long, that’s well known
Just look at the sh*t I own
And I got too much money to make then to be worrying bout emptying a b*tch bone
My mind gone, my top blown
I’m thowed, my drank cold, my dank roll
My bankroll is whoa!

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