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H.A.W.K - Down N H-Town (Remix) Lyrics

(feat. Lil' Keke, Big Pokey, Mike D)

God damn it let's do it E, what ha-ha
The motherfucking young Don, H-A-W-K
Day one niggaz, ain't that right Sensei
Corleone (Corleone) ha-ha, Screwed Up Click
C.M.G. ha, if it's up to me it is

[Lil' Keke]
Down in H-Town, the realest gon stand out
From the city of no pity, the gritty you get shot
I'm the big boss the young Don, however you want it
And them six figgas with bitches, I done had that moment
I get my crush on my rush on, I love this game
Make your mouth taste like shit, when you mention my name
Cause I'm adding and subtracting, looking over distractions
Y'all struggling everyday mayn, we chilling and relaxing
They asking for the best, so I'm letting 'em see the best
In my Bentley top down, with a vest on my chest
I'm smoking weed by the barrels, Iceberg apperals
Niggaz know my songs, like they Christmas carols
If it wasn't for the ice, the streets'll get burned
Why the hell I ain't balling, cause it ain't your turn
You can't see me can't be me, don't make me have to show ya
Covered in ice, call me Rocky Balboa nigga

[Hook x2]
Down in H-Town, the realest gon stand out
If it wasn't for the ice, the streets'd be hot
Count six factors, crushing all you actors
On the Southside, we ain't scared of no jackers

[Mike D]
Down in H-Town, chit-chatters get the gatling
Baby you duck face, when this ccalicostart rattling
Nigga you know me, gun-ho brick feeter
Intercept your funds and ones, H-Town block bleeder
Enter the do' on swoll, in a all black Range Rover
Mobbing like a steam roller, with a cash bag on my shoulder
Don't get caught in the clutch, without a pop in your drawas
Be slipping and dipping, and find a chopper to your jaws
H-Town's my home, and bar no jacker and his mama
Load it up for the drama, 4-4's pause you like a camma
Hell-a heat's a must, or get your damn wig touched
Mess around and get crunched, or find your baby mama fucked
We keep the streets congested, Mickey Mouse block prince
Flooded in cloud dust, acting like the U.S. Mint
Heaven sent niggaz, grave diggas for figgas
And send shivers to you jiggas, unloading triggas cause uh we

[Hook x2]

[Big Pokey]
I keep my game face on, when I'm punching the clock
Trying to climb to the top man, it just don't stop
Wanna dip in the pot, keep a whipping for spot
Got a gator for a Houpe', so I don't flip it a lot
Keep about a half a brick, distribute it out
If niggaz don't pay back, then niggaz get shot
On my block, we play chess with techs
And if the price is right, we'll twist ya neck
Cats get they wig cracked, for disrespect
Plus a slug in your thigh, with a hole in your sweats
I'm that nigga on your trail, when you rolling a Lac
Bout two cars behind, on the 1100 stretch
Running you down, catch up I'm gunning you down
By this time next week, you'll be under the ground
That's what you chumps get, for running in mine
Fuck around and get one in your spine, I ain't lying

[Hook x2]

Crown the king, the champ has entered the ring
Get under my wing, better duck when I swing
First string, clicks please like a trained Marine
Wolverine, scare niggaz like Halloween
I'm underrated, easily agitated
Aggravated, my mouthpiece contaminated
Educated, vocabulary complicated
And the lyrics that I spit, are sprinkled and saturated
Most niggaz hate it, cause they ain't the chosen
In H-Town, niggaz neck and wrist are frozen
Ask your stolen, cause we the realest no doubt
And the ice on my piece, it need to thaws out
I brought the raw out, cause I ain't scared of no jackers
And the heat that I pack, hit harder than linebackers
Call the dispatcher, cause niggaz gon bleed
If Ke' is Balboa, then I'm Apollo Creed nigga what

[Hook x2]

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