S.L.A.B. (Slow Loud And Bangin) - Standing Stron lyrics

rate me

(feat. Billy Cook, Mr. 3-2, Trea, Lil Head, Jay Ton, Lil )

[Billy Cook]

Whoa no-no-no, y'all ain't ready

And if you are, then cop to this playa

Oooh, don't sleep on it

You gotta creep with it, ooooh

It's so slow and loud and banging, now you know

[Hook: Billy Cook]

Slow, Loud And Bangin'

Still in the game, and standing strong

Shining thoed, and swanging chrome

Grinding full time, trying to get it on

Haters wanna, hate a G

Like Billy Cook, and S-L-A-B

Cause we got, the game on lock

Pulling up on the block, looking so clean

[Mr. 3-2]

Still in the game, my name ring like bells

Throughout this free world, all the way to jail cells

Niggaz is jeal', cause I'm knocking down they broad

Hustling for mine, serving these boys hard

I pray to the Lord, this rap thang goes down

Keep me alive and freaky, don't have to sell pounds

Boys ain't shit, so I stay's on a chase

Fucking with jacking niggaz, got me a case

So I slowed my pace, and ride one deep

With something real jazzy, in the passenger seat

From head to the feet, I'm a hundred percent real

Hundred percent grind, I'm counting hundred dolla bills

Cause stuffling and hustling, is all I know

Pockets full of cash, moving blocks of that snow

Spitting at a hoe, crawling down slow

The Lord only knows, how far will I go

[Trae]

Representer Slow Loud And Banger, a playa gotta get that paper

Never be falling off of my game, and these haters I'ma see you later

Trae that same cat on 5-4, with a throwback and black Lac

With a trunk cracked when I bang that, slowed down Fat Pat

They don't wanna see me wreck that, when I tip slow and I swang wide

I struggle and then I strive, on a mission trying to keep it live

On the underground is where I grind, forever repping the name

I'm sick of pain, so now I'm motivated to leave a stain

From the life of the hard knocks, in a Benz with a hard top

Flat screens and a XBox, and a top fell off the drop

On the block running from cops, late night looking for cot

I'm a G till the heart stop, think not you better ask Shot

About this S.L.A.B. Slow Loud And Bangin', and we forever wrecking

Give me the microphone, I can show you gorillas with aggression

That's spitting without a question, my blessing is what I'm stressing

For niggaz that's steady testing, I'm cocking my Smith-N-Wesson

[Hook]

[Lil' Head]

I paid dues, and now I'm living greatly now

The bitches that use to trap me, wanna rape me now

I got a little change, wanna date me now

Call a nigga cellular phone, and page me now

You fake niggaz ain't no better and, fuck you and your fellow men

Ask yourself think about it, now who's the better man

See I was told, that I wish I one day

If I wasn't a victim, of hood crime gun play

I done been there done that, even had a stroke

Pick the words that I quote, that's emotionally wrote

I even had a couple of girls, I thought was real

But these broads is scandalous, less and talk this year

Everything that I grind for, is all for Omaria

Lil' Rashard and the money, daddy gone be spoiling you

So understand, that I'm caught up in this street life

And when I'm done, I promise y'all we'll be iight

[Jay'Ton]

Jay'Ton gotta make that paper, went from dropping a old school

To driving Navigators, and I still got hated

On my dick, hating me cause I make that cash

And stack that cash, and pull up in a drop on they asses

Sitting on glass, but nevermind that

The S.L.A.B. is all in your face, and no way you can hide that

And still I ride fly, on eleven times two's

If your broad is a dime, she still get ran through

By the click is South Klique, repping the Southside

Pull up in something stretched, and my do's be suicide

Nationwide certified the King, Don Datta

If you think I'm tricking my money, baby I think nada

[Lil' B]

I look good feel fine, my flow is genuine

22's spinning like, it's the hands of time

They don't stop, watch em chop S.L.A.B. beating up your block

Swanging corner to corner, letting the bumper unlock

We drop nothing but hits, you haters dismissed

Treat em like fake hoes, scratch they name off the list

Cause we grind still shine, if you try to take mine

Got something that'll drop you, like the drop of a dime

I'm Lil' B, you niggaz know we S-L-A-B

Putting it down with Billy Cook, in these H-Town streets

Standing tall on my feet, I know you gotta hate that

Wave that, we the type that make you niggaz move back

On a track so squash that, matter of fact

I'ma grind lil' nigga, thinking about my paper stack

Throw hooks like Kojack, if you get in my zone

I'm too strong, S.L.A.B. throwing combinations to your dome

[Dougie D]

We Slow, Loud And Bangin' these streets

Pumping pushing for paper, to stay up on feet

Some hate, and try to knock me

But I'm on top of my game, so they can't stop me

I'm a motherfucking G, apparently you lost your mind

It was destiny to shine, for me and smoke and smoke a lot

And drink, and everything that I got in my life look I provide for me

Got killas that'll ride for me, got bitches that'll ride for me

Don't matter how you see it, it's Guerilla and we ride for we

But still, they hating S-L-A-B

And Billy, so we gon shake them bitches off like fleas

But look and calculate, capitalize in these streets

[Hook]