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jon connor - lone star lyrics

[hook]
down south, sittin’ low
subs, subs, in my trunk
midwest, pimpin’ hoes, twenty-six’s on the truck
put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
parking lot pimpin’ with the candy painted doors topped
now i’m still flippin’ in the ‘caddy sittin’ low
i told her: put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho
put it on the, put it on the, put it on the floor, ho

[verse 1: jon connor]
n-gga, i was down south (down south)
sittin’ up in the house of blues, chilling
i catch these hoes, i don’t catch feelings
yep, real n-gga in the building
midwest game so cold, ya’ll should have knew that
born and raised in the mitten
thick motherf-cker, i knew i had to get it
she had three kids, i paid for the sitter
her girl came with her; part-time hater, full-time stripper
she had an ex-man, and the ho still bitter
thought i was gonna kiss -ss for the -ss, how the f-ck you figure?
no, wrong; i ain’t gotta do all that
my n-gga just came with the liquor
shots of ciroc get your girls on the floor
now she got her -ss on the floor right with her
everybody drinkin’, everybody faded
she ask is it good for the night, you the greatest
this how it supposed to go down now, ain’t it?
square–ss n-ggas got the game all tainted
spoiling hoes that don’t want a thing
wife the hoes that don’t want your ring
she run the game, she could coach the team
that’s why i handle mine how it’s supposed to be

[hook]

[verse 2: glc]
please don’t confuse me with these f-cking coos (f-cking coos)
sippin’–ss lames like it’s something cool (something cool)
you know i’m pullin’ up, in something smooth (something smooth)
g’d the f-ck up, first day of school (ism) (first day of school)
aw, sh-t, your b-tch is so promiscuous (d-mn) (promiscuous)
she a runner, you should see the sh-t she did (d-mn) (sh-t she did)
i ain’t lay up with her, i just hit and slid (never) (hit and slid)
i can’t do that sh-t, i’m a pimp, you dig? (i’m a pimp, you dig?)
midwest mackin’, as it manifest (manifest)
cathedral-fied ism, nothing less (nothing less)
big br–sts feel so good all on my chest (on my chest)
i’m an addict for this p-ssy, yes i must confess

[verse 3: bun b]
yeah, you know i’m a lone star, and my homie’s that lone star
where them gangstas is known for having they own ‘dro, and they own bar
baddest b-tches that’s ballin’ out with they own crib, and they own car
and when it come down to texas, man there ain’t too many places that’s on par
candy painted slab, rollin’ up and down the ave
see them jazzy, yellow bras, with that big old -ss to grab
we cuttin’ corners, poppin’ trunks, and we sw-ngin’, bustin’ sweets down
as we burn them swishers up, and burn these [?] streets down
walking tall in my neighborhood, and i’m known for puttin’ my feet down
frontin’ on a trill n-gga, man guaranteed you gon’ catch a beat-down
your girl wanna swallow my meat down, and i’m inclined to let her
trill o.g. about the cheddar, and can’t no n-gga do it any better
hold up, man

[hook]

[outro: glc]
know what i’m talking ’bout?
the motherf-ckin’ confession of a motherf-ckin’ true bonafide, mackin’ blessing
know what i’m talking ’bout?
rotating with my n-gga jon connor, and we always seem to amaze and astonish
know what i’m talking ’bout?
motherf-ckin’ ism is the motherf-ckin’ streets, rotating with my true playa partner by the name of bun b
know what i’m talking ’bout?
cathedral to the congregation
know what i’m talking ’bout?
no more strangulation, raise your motherf-ckin’ pimping up and join this motherf-ckin’ ism nation
divorce the bullsh-t, marry the motherf-ckin’ ism
church!

- jon connor lyrics

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