Dont Mess With Texas Lyrics - Bashtown - Baby Bash

"Lone Star ranger" 

"Lone Star ranger" 

"Lone Star ranger" ("Sit-sittin' on swanger") 

"Lone Star ranger" 

"Lone Star ranger" 

"Lone Star ranger" ("Sit-sittin' on swanger") 

[Chorus] 

Don't mess with Texas, oh no 

We just so damn, what, so cold 

Competition 

You could really want it 

When you backing down, look what we have accomplished 

Don't mess with Texas, oh no 

We just so damn, what, so cold 

Got the big bangers 

Cause the last swangers 

Paint drippin', boy, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout 

Ay, Lucky Lu', gon' come through, and do this here for Screw zoo 

I'm a Texas boy, eating barbecue, and sippin' on red Mountain Dew 

{Lone Star ranger, sittin' on swanger} 

One in the chamber, ready for the danger 

Five cliffhangers, I'm a show 'em how to tip toe 

Here to wreck a set, bang, when I drop my fifth O 

H-Town, San Anton', ATX, Fort Worth 

Dallas to the valley, man, it's all about the work 

What you know about the great state of Texas 

Rocks in a necklace, leave a {bitch} breathless 

Home of the players and the styrofoam cups 

Woodgrain wheel and I'm ridin' on bucks 

Paint look slippery, drank not Hennessey 

Brand new Bentley, same ol' triple beam 

Uh 

And I'm Draped Up and dripped out 

Eighty-four spiderwebs, got your boy tipped out 

[Chorus] 

I got chicks like Pamela, from H to Canada 

The only game I ever played good was Gallahger 

Cold like Alas-a-ka, flip 'em like spatula 

People be trying to bite my flows like Dracula's 

Spectacular, my rappin' doesn't seem to have a replica 

Angel, I saw a dude go from Jesse to Jessica 

Dope fiend blessed, I'm a money making maniac 

Born in the gutter like a little cute baby rat 

My lady's tat got SPM in faded black 

People say you look like Carlos Coy, but, ain't he fat 

Just like a janie sack, I'm been gettin' Slim Fast 

Prison life turn my cell block into a gym class 

Pull-ups off my top bunk, bench press my mattress 

Curlin' pillow cases full of books and a atlas 

Can you understand this or has a G lost touch 

Walkin' in my con chucks, livin' out long months 

[Chorus] 

It's that Dope House Records, jammin' out of Texas 

Mayne, I'm so powerful with quick reflexes 

With the SP Mex's, South Park on hollow 

Happy P., got the beats on steroids like (??) 

If I'm Italian, I'm a Capo, yeah, fully made 

Retire from the game, and still get fully paid 

Yeah 

It's the Dope House prophet 

Thirty-five and forty-five in the state, keep it poppin' 

Boy, what you slangin' 

Boy, what you slangin' 

Ridin' big body, playboy, what you sangin' 

Smashing down ten with a farm in my woodgrain 

Hit San Anton', and you know it's all good, mayne 

[Chorus]