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Trae - Oh No Instrumental "Oh No"
Lyrics Below.........
[Hook]
Oh no, there go them Texas boys banging in a (More) "Oh No"
Lyrics Below.........
[Hook]
Oh no, there go them Texas boys banging in a fo' do'
Top fell out the drop, crawling on 84's
Think of taking my slab, baby I don't think so
My heat under my seat, and I don't love you hoes
Living it like a G, but still I gotta lay low
Five percent or ten, but still my screens gon glow
These haters be in my mix, and these boppers be on my dick
Everytime I come round the corner
[Paul Wall]
I'm from the land of opportunity, in God we trust
But haters in my mix, got me paranoid and disgust
I'm scoping out my side mirrors, when my car's in park
It's after dark, and my slab is fresh meat to these sharks
Boys thinking I been drinking, so I'm off my note
But I got seventeen surprises, tucked inside of my coat
See me strut through the parking lot, on 22's plus
It's a must I make all haters, eat my dust
Them jump-out boys, waiting trying to catch me slipping
I ain't tripping, grain ain't the only thing that I'm gripping
Boys jacking with these tow trucks, thinking they slick
But take a trip to South Lee, and end up in a ditch
They got my purple people eater once, the next day
I bought a Range Rover cash, and a new set of fronts
I've been on feet for months, I'm taking haters to lunch
Paul Wall and Trae, hit em with that one-two punch
[Hook]
[Trae]
When I flip in my slab
I'm fin to beat they back off, like I was legs
Sitting low and tinted on chrome, gangstafied till I'm finished
I'm bout to diminish these haters, when my trunk start waving
Blue over gray, side of my drop with six T.V.'s I'm displaying
They hate that I'm shining, with the fifth wheel falling flying down the block
But if one of these haters, wanna jack me
Slugs gon be flying, out the glock
I click for no reason, this season my slab is staining they brain
And I be known for getting reckless in Texas, gripping on grain
Forever be pimping, 84 tipping all through the South
Grilling boppers all through my tint, with diamonds all in my mouth
They all in my mouth, looking stupid when I burn right past em
Cause some of these broads be living shife, and setting up for the jacking
But not today, cause Trae gon be flipping on top of his game
We guerillas I'm mobbing with, ain't no stopping me mayn
When I'm in my fo' do' solo, the slab is bound to get tossed
And if you trying to be competition, then you bound to be getting lost
[Hook]
[Chamillionaire]
Now look how your life stares, in a barrel and I swear
I wouldn't let a platinum ghost, jack me in a nightmare
I got that paranoia for you, trigga finger gon destroy you
And if that trigga finger don't get you, get the number to my lawyer
I hold court with Ben Franklin, I talk with my bread
Soon as I let him out that briefcase, it's off with your head
Can't negotiate with the heater either, talk to the lead
And talk to your head, when it's finished you'll walk with the dead
I call the police they'll probably get him, by the end of the week
I call the streets, they gon get him before the end of this treat
With the end of the heat, to set flame to the end of his suite
The end of his feet, will be poking out the end of a sheet
Hold up I'm just saying though, has this happened befo' naw
But no law, gon keep these hollows from entering your jaw
If it's my money or my family, or my woman or my car
I'm headed to that blood bank, I'm bout to make a withdrawl
[Hook]
[Chamillionaire]
When I'm coming round that corner
All you haters, better get up out of my range
Run up on me, if you wanna
I ain't gon play no games, at all when I'm taking my aim
Cause you're gonna be a goner
You thinking of taking mine, late night when the 84's swang
I know you niggaz in the game, gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain, and he can charge it to the game
When I'm coming round that corner
Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm
Run up on me, if you wanna
Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm
Cause you're gonna be a goner
Hmmmm-mmmm-mmmm-mmm-hm-hm-hm
I know you niggaz in the game, gotta feel the same
Make a jacker feel the pain, and he can charge it to the game
[Hook] (Less)
Guerilla Maab - Year Of The Undadawgs [Hook: Big T] Fuck y'all, I'm staying on my job Its the Big T, putting it down with the (More) [Hook: Big T] Fuck y'all, I'm staying on my job Its the Big T, putting it down with the Maab Fuck y'all, I know you gon hate For the ones who talking down, we keep putting it in your face Fuck y'all, you boppers and gold diggers We some million dolla niggas, you never gon get us Fuck y'all, I know you boys heard The year of the underdawg, and we repping the Dirty Third [Z-Ro] Lately I've been losing my composure, the soldier in me is raging I got a fucked up attitude, and I punish a punk if he misbehaving Like I'm taking names, when it get a little more deeper Z-Ro the Crooked taking aim, point blank range, hit a nigga in the brain Is it ever gon stop hell naw, shouldn't even have to tell y'all, but if One of y'all run up on anybody, Guerilla Maab and people gon smell y'all Cause I don't give a fuck about you, when I bust I'm trying To knock a chunk up out ya, hit a motherfucker in the middle of the ring Left right combos, pre punk up out you, ahh bitch all cats Don't want no beef, fucking with me, and the Guerilla M double A-B Haters sprinkle S-L-A-T, but we steady stack E-N-D's Out on the block or up in the sto', raw like salt that's up in your nose A gangsta I suppose, and until my eyes close fuck y'all [Hook] [Dougie D] Fuck y'all fuck you, and everything that you stand fo' I'm a motherfucking P-I-M-P, Dougie D all I want is the cash flow From the front to the back do', I'll straight up slide a hoe all up out my pesos Sparkle weaving all these fake hoes, leaving hatas so shit I'll shake those Feel that man they can get back wanna rip that, four five killing all chit chat Man I live a life long straight do' flat, come roll with me so its like that Everyday all day, representing for the dirty third, fuck what a Motherfucker heard, swift flyer than a bird, a nigga swang and a nigga swerve Indeed I love to smoke my weed, stimulate my M-I-N-D But these hatas always up on my meat, so I gotta stay up on my P's Put it down with my partna Big T, representing hard in the Southside streets We gon continue to smash for the trash, and the white folks what y'all thinking [Hook] [Trae] Repping the Dirty Third, we in the four do' Coupe coming up on the curb And fin to fly to the South like a heard of birds, and anybody talking down Better watch they words, 'fore I touch a nigga nerve And if another one of you motherfuckers wanna get stoled on Better hold on 'fore I roll on, with a right hand that'll do a nigga so wrong It'll be known for some of y'all to move on, we still always and forever Guerillas that mob and I'm the lieutenant, stand down back down And get a nigga smacked down, into the ground you feel me now Thinking I don't know that y'all hating on us, while your other Motherfuckers be waiting on us, and changing on us Debating on us, and all of that hate only made a nigga tough, fuck being down We ain't going back broke I'ma cope anyone that Trae'd never smoke Any one of these hoes going against the Maab, on the mic you better Get a day job, we ain't having it motherfucker better know we talented Any way I'ma damage it, savage it, when we come Through the do', we ramming it [Hook - 2x] (Less)
Trae-Losing Composure- S L A B-ED -2003-RAGEMP3 
2009-01-20 - extension: rar - size: 101 MB
Trae-Losing Composure- S L A B-ED -2003-RAGEMP3
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2003 Trae-Losing Composure.part1.rar 2008-12-06 - extension: rar - size: 98 MB
2003 Trae-Losing Composure.part1.rar
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