What You Gone Do lyrics

(*talking*)
S.L.A.B., Slow Loud And Bangin'
n*ggas thought we was missing in action
But now we back in they face
Tell me what the f*ck they gon do, now that we

(*Ludacris*)
We bout to take off, so F what you heard
Because my side mirrors flap, like a f*cking bird
And for the fools we gon clock one, and we'll pop one
Cause my folk riding shot gun, with a shotgun - 2x

[Hook - 4x]
Tell me what you gon do
When, I'm coming for you

[Jay'Ton]
Who a n*gga 17, that you know with a strap
It's Jay'Ton, coming from the lower part of the map
Watch what you say b*tch, cause your phones is tapped
I'm riding in my Buick, creeping with my heat in my lap
When you see me coming move, 'fore you get ranned over
Can't you see, that the Down South is taking over
If you don't believe me b*tch, I'ma have to smoke you
You gon be that next witness, meeting up with Jehovah
Tell me what you gon do, when I grab my tool
And I c*ck that b*tch back, fin to (act a fool)
So tell me what you gon do, when I swoop the block
And kick your do' with thugs, that'll (act a fool)
[Lil B]
You a chump ass n*gga, that I really don't bar
That's why I'm grabbing a Mack, letting off shots through your car
Who I are, Lil Beezie fa sheezie I leave em greasy
When you get out of line, I promise you gon have to see me
Believe me, I bust rounds until my clip is empty
You tell me f*ck around and rush with a pitbull attitude, not friendly
You rookie, that's sweeter than a fresh odor spanked Ma cookie
Better duck before I bust, and leave you wetter than some hot pus*y

[Mike D]
Give a f*ck, n*gga
Pulling up slow-mo, ready to buck n*gga
I'm out the rooftop let out duck n*gga, too late you got stuffed
That's what they get for playing with me, I don't give a f*ck
Mike D Corleone, b*tch I'm back home
Playing spot back, so n*gga bring that sh*t on
That Glock your own, gon be hurting tonight
Hit it ghetto-burg yellow tape, working tonight
I'm like good yay dog, if you serve it right
But don't play my nerves n*gga, I'm the nervous type
I got a itchy itchy itchy, itchy trigga finger
Let the K drop out, a hundred shots in you

[Trae]
Hit your block, in a black mask
On they ass, flipping in a Nova
Coming out, strapped up like a soldier
When I hit the lights, you know it's over
Ain't no drivebys, on you wise guys
On the low, coming and slide guys
In a Maab, labeled no guide lines
In all black, with no bean pies
Tell me what you gon do, when I'm coming
They be coming the rhythm, I ain't bumping
And I bob and I weave, and a left
And a right quick blow, till your head be lumping
And it ain't, no Baretta
When I'm face to face, coming to get you
Hit you with Guerilla Maab, and that S.L.A.B. squad
With red dots, so we don't miss you
[Hook - 4x]

[J-Doe]
I'm so tired, of being humble (humble)
I'm fins to hit your block, in that Matchbox black Hummer
Hit the lock, and let it rumble (let it rumble)
'Fore it's missiles twist and turn, plus them hoes tumble
Hold the rock, we never fumble (never fumble)
When it hit, you feel the burn scream and just mumble
It's S-Dub Vaulters (Vaulters)
Walking around, with two toasters on the holsters
And if it's drama, I'm the closest (I'm the closest)
Don't need to invite us, b*tch we the hostess
It's Dub-V and S.L.A.B. (S.L.A.B.)
Somebody call Sound Scan, cause these tracks getting S.L.A.B-ed

[311]
Y'all already know, we the cream of the crop
Whatever b*tch that's throwing his gums, then that's the b*tch we gon drop
We keeping it hotter than a sauna, your whole click fin to get rolled over
Like a stick of dro when I blow you, left-right uppercut when I fold you
S-L-A-B repping, betting none of you n*ggas can come and bump with it
Holding it down throughout H-Town, all the way back to Tex-City
3 let it get loose again, S.L.A.B. hitting hoes choosing and
Running these old turtle ass n*ggas, back up in they shells again
We bout to blow you to the table, crush the tension
We done had enough of the small talk, and enough lip from you b*tches
So keep your smiles and kisses, friendly sh*t out that b*tches
I'm the type of n*gga that'll turn a so-called gangsta, back religious
[Big Pup]
Here I come, coming to get you
You n*ggas don't get the picture, till 40 rounds come hit you
I'm the hard n*gga, in this b*tch with Maab n*ggas
And we disregard n*ggas, cause we taking charge n*gga
You was running your mouth uh, now that's gon
Make a n*gga run in your house, and put the gun in your mouth
I see the fear in your eyes, b*tch
If I so much as see a tear in your eyes, I'm gon materialize
You better realize, me and my n*ggas we be Guerillas
Some go-getters, so if I want you I'ma go get you
I'm bout to go n*gga, nothing else matter
When the 40 hit your brain, won't nothing else splatter

[Hook - 4x]