Outta Season Lyrics - Bun B

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

(been, been outta season) 

Drop, chop the block for no reason 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop, pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop, pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

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Mane, I'm a big body in a big body, prop the fuck up 

Top dropped the fuck down and trunk popped the fuck up 

Love you if you stayed down and fuck you if you stuck up 

Fuck, I'm 'bout to drop the slab off and pick the truck up 

Laid up in the Escalade, cup of Vodka 

Un DS Jordan's I just pulled up out the locker 

Nina tucked with the chopper and if I pop her, you couldn't stop her 

Break you off somethin' proper 

Been 'round since Vogue tires wrapped around the Tru's rim 

Tell them hoes if they ain't chose yet, they better choose him 

Keep the camera movin', if you don't, you finna lose him 

Better check the timeline if you ain't heard the news, bitch 

Photos 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Mane, I'm a big baller holdin' big balls in my nutsack 

Dirty South nigga, buck at me I'm finna buck back 

Boys thought I wasn't comin' back, nigga fuck that 

Shit, I'm 'bout to pick the slab up and bring the truck back 

Slab time, wreck your slab, I'm about to hit 'em hard 

Swingin' on your curb, best to get up in your yard 

Say exactly what the fuck I feel with no disregard 

David Blaine with this thang, mane, is this your card? 

This the trill nigga's four-oh-nine region 

You gon' have to back the fuck down or pay allegiance 

Momma them from Louisiana, Cajun with the seas'nin 

The King is on the throne, it's best you just appease him, bitch 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Summertime let the top off 

Spring up with the ice in Winter 

Chop the block like a steak dinner 

They bust shots, return to sender 

Graduated as a corner bender from the school of trill 

Showin' grill, pop pop the seal 

Pop pop the trunk 

Neon real, bitch how it feel? 

How it taste? 

Pringle season all in her face 

Eat the cake, don't forget to scrap crumbs off the plate 

Them candy flakes drip off the chrome 

Sunshine won't leave me alone 'cause I keep a glow 

When they throw a stone 

When it rains on my robes 

Practice what I always preach 

No hand-outs, bitch stop that reach 

I'm still holdin' on, competitin' 

All that lame shit outta season 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season 

Practice what you preach, keep your eyes on the prize 

Pop the trunk twice with the swangers on the side 

Drop the top, chop the block for no reason 

All this lame shit been, been outta season