"H-Town G-Funk"
  [First Verse]
  My sweet Lac fall back just creepin' on three wheels
  A bitch to my right cocked giving me cheap thrills
  I see meals, coming down my path
  In the ghetto cat's wrath making math
  I'm the last to blast, on that ass now you the past
  It's no joke you get smoked like buddah grass
  Who the fastest punk em' like cashes
  And when I crash this you catch whiplashes
  Bitch I'm on a mission to listen and give descriptions
  Hung G's in my hood in their intentions
  I hear gunshots ringing like hell's bells
  I see drug sells check out my thug tales
  Fuck jails, bank swells keeps hella grip
  And I can sell dope on ice, and never slip
  They serving Kibbles N' Bits while I'm cooking bricks
  Save my crumbs for the ones who sucking dicks
  I made it rich on the ditch you quick snap
  I left that cut now they wonder where the brick's at
  My green shit stacks, still clip packs
  Thirty-six lead homies so don't trip jack
  It's the wet back hitting on the bongs
  Son in the long run, I'll be the strong one.
    [Chorus: (4X)]
  If you step in my hood bitch you will get blasted
  It's nothin but that h-town g-funk
    (Yeah this is for all them hustlers in Hillwood, South Park. Huh.)
    [Second Verse]
  I told yah, boy you must have caught amnesia
  Trying to jack now you're on your back breathing anastesia
  You got blasted cuz you trespassed it
  They never lasted, in the game I mastered
  You stupid bastard, tell me what's your final word
  Before I let this lead tip hit your spinal cord
  Oh you was ready just begging to gank me
  Now your ass is just dead and stanky
  I put my foot in your shit like the hokey pokey
  Leave the scene, now everything's okie dokie
  Your homies know me, but they won't fuck with this
  Cuz now they know that I could show buck a bitch
  I'm the macker plus the gun packer
  So you little jackers best stick to crackers
  Cuz fucking with this mex gets your neck broke
  Stuck like chuck straight fucked and in check Loc
  Cuz I think fast when I'm in the slow lane
  Get in my domain and fall back with no brain
  So dont raid, or try to rain on my parade
  Cuz i'm strapped from my blade, to my grenade.
    [Chorus]
    [Third Verse]
  My sweet Texas, restless, wanting to ride Lexus
  Check this or flex this, I get wreckless
  Unbelievable lyrical synical
  Here we go mary go round I down critical
  Street stamina dammin' a cop
  Slammin' a punk, and jam in my funk
  I'm the man with the skill foreal
  Guard my grill with steel, on Sundays I kneel
  On my knees to Jesus, please seize us
  Cuz my boy's in trouble, and he needs us
  Got a bat, my homie's on the double
  Punks want trouble, I bam bam rubble
  Still the son of a gun having big fun
  Come and get some, I leave you wet mon
  Fill your lead with an infared
  I put the best to bed, they call him dead fucking fred
  Shed my skin like a snake on a vine
  Climbing on the crime side, coming around the blind side
  We fall in ranks like a motherfucking pyramid
  And I'm the top block will I stop never did
  Make you pass the 9th grade, but got life made
  Chose that dope and I hope I picked the right trade.
    [Chorus]