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Chunk Up The Deuce Lyrics

Ft: Paul Wall

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You pyonged “Lil Keke – Chunk Up The Deuce”

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[Hook: Lil Keke]
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down and boys wanna hate
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, don't make me pull out the choppa
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, I'll leave 'em on the streets dead
I chunk up the deuce for the south and the north
Boys talking down, I got them diamonds in my mouth


[Verse 1: Paul Wall]
Well it's that grain gripper from Houston, Tex
That barre sipper, that barre, no plex
I'm straight up outta that Swishahouse, where G. Dash write all the checks
So check the neck, check the wrist, I'm balla status from head to toe
My jewelry shop sell more grills than George Foreman, baby now you know

That ain't a igloo, that's my watch, and that ain't snow, baby that's my chain
That's not a ice tray, that's my teeth, and that's not a snow cone, that's my ring

That ain't Kool-Aid up in my cup, I stay sipping that purple oil
I stay flipping the slab on fours, cause I'm a hustler 'til I'm in the soil
My wrist game is one of a kind, Patek Philippe worth a 100K
My work schedule out on the block, it's mash all night and grind all day
No 401K for a hustler, just bleed the block and stack that paper
M.O.B. when it comes to hoes and a .40 cal when it comes to haters
We authentic playas not counterfeit, got a 600 Benz with a fog kit
Got hoes at the HK turning tricks, outrunning the track, trying to make me rich
I'm too legit to quit, stacking up that paper 'til I'm gone
So I'ma be working wood wheel and catching splinters
Riding twenty inches or better in chrome

[Hook: Lil Keke]

[Verse 2: Lil Keke]
Don Ke
Houston, Tex, got the streets burning, popping seals with them fours turning
Rookie boys, they still learning, losing cash, I'm still earning
Get my bread when I shake the fed, keep them dimes in and out my bed
Jump in the drop to convert the top and let 'em bop on candy red
Leather seats with that wood out, they don't know what my hood 'bout
Tryna take the young don's spot, I'm platinum balling and still hot
Haters off in my mix again, pimping broads plus pimping pens
Multiplying, I gotta win, keep that ice looking clear as gin
Out the roof still chunking deuce, riding slab and hopping juice
Diamond grill with plenty of skills, just pass the mic and I let it loose
Independent still chasing bucks, 22s on Porsche trucks
Model chicks with them big ol' butts, killer clans with them big ol' nuts
Hit the club with my game tight, hoes bopping my fame right
Did her thang the same night, boys talking, it's all hype
Cut the check when I run my mouth, rolling in green like I'm playing golf
Texas boys be going off, representing the north and south

[Hook: Lil Keke]

[Verse 3: Pimp C and Bun B]
I'm from Port Arthur, Texas, represent it 'til I'm dead
Pimping almost died in the 80s, boys was scared
Bitches was on crack, and the 'Lac wasn't rolling

But the game done been revived cause now the south side is holding
Pockets stay swollen, what do we do with all this cash?

Drive '84 Biarritz with TVs jumpin up out the dash
Pistol in the stash even though I'm on parole
Nigga try me with that fuck it, bitch I'll leave your body cold
From the land of grain, dripping paint, 84s and a chrome grill
This Texas baby, dirty south, P.A.T., you know we real
We pack the Ks, Desert Eags, ARs and them 38s
We serving nothing but Chyna Whyte, playa we don't sell that dirty weight
Big Bun Beeda, hold it down, rep the town to the fullest
Whether it be on the mic or in the streets busting them bullets
Don't put it with me, I won't pull it on you and leave you ventilated
UGK is back on the block and you marks is finna hate it

[Hook: Lil Keke]

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