[Intro:]. Yeah. H-town pull ya slabs out (H-Town!). H-town pull ya slabs out (It's goin down!). Alright alright alright. [Verse 1:]. Look you can tell I'm a balla. When I'm in the 6-4 Chevrolet Impala. Cause the gloss on the candy paint is so lean. Rims big as Ruben tires skinny as a dope fiend. It look clean from the oustide. But I'm ridin dirty cause of what I stashed in the rawhide. The big grills guaranteed to leave ya mouth wide. When ya see me cruzin' through the streets of the Southside. The state of Texas is where I'm from. Yeah I'm a cowboy so when I ride I wear my gun. So run if you hear the glock noise. Or get shot down and stomped till ya all broke up like the Hot Boyz. Chicks wishin' they could ride with the young buck. While I'm lane switchin swangin' wild as some nunchucks. I told ya I'm strapped in case a hater run up. I leave 'em full of holes like a belt when I come bust. [Hook: x2]. Cause I'm cruzin' down the street in my 6-4. Roll up a sweet and fire the Indo. Let the top back roll down the window. I'm hittin swithces on a mission to get dough. Cause I'm cruzin' down the street. Cr-cr-cruzin' down the street in my 6-4. Cruzin' down the street. Cr-cr-cruzin' down the street in my 6-4. [Verse 2:]. Uh. You could tell I'm paper stackin. When you see my old school Chevy Capris Classic. Plus I got the speakers blastin. Bangin ride with me you gon' need to bring some aspirin. Four twelves in the trunk bridge the amplified. But the lil' rims with the slim lay on the camel tires. I hit the A and vallet at the Lenox mall. Smokin' on some sticky the same color as tennis balls. I ain't finished dawg. It's full of screens on the seats reclined. While I'm watchin Crazy Joe in "Lean On Me". I had to stop when the cops put the beams on me. Cause he pulled me over askin if I had some weed on me. But I told him no so he let me go. He thought I was high cause I was ridin in my Chevy slow. Okay I was blowed but I ain't tell him that. Slowin up traffic I'm the cat they yellin at. [Hook: x2]. Cause I'm cruzin' down the street in my 6-4. Roll up a sweet and fire the Indo. Let the top back roll down the window. I'm hittin swithces on a mission to get dough. Cause I'm cruzin' down the street. [Verse 3:]. Damn!. I had to park the 6-4 cause it had a scratch. I ain't trippin now it's time to pull out the Cadillac. Yeah that's how we do it down in H-Town. Ridin Fleetwoods bout as long as a Greyhound. On the steerin wheel is where the wood grain go. I got the fifth wheel but I ain't talkin bout a game show. You might see a playa swangin' swervin'. Cause down here all they drink is syrup'll have ya lazy. Eyes low Screw tape screamin' play me. Fat Pat rappin man hold up baby. Man but a playa still cruzin'. Let the boy Short show you how we do in Houston. Even from the haters dawg I gain respect. Cause when I pass by I have his chick bout to sprain her neck. You wonder why ya ho wanna ride with me. Cause I'm on Spreewells and you rollin' on Mike Bibby's. Get with me