They Don't Know (214) (feat. B-Dash & Jakecon)

These fools don't know, bout that 214! Yeah! Ganster to the elements Clear the scene, leave all the evidence You gone think a nigga like me was Heaven sent When I pull up to your hood or your residence It ain't nothing to boss, cuz it's evident You better put your money away You ain't confident 15% of that shit be real The other 85% be fake as shit! You better watch what you say to me Keep your eyes and your toes all down in the streets I be rolling 75 bout twice a week Make 'em find another body in The Trinity Chop it up with my niggas out that Murda Worth 817 be known for that murder first 469, 682 dog That shit just be that area code! Roll up bout 3 in a row Fucking around with my nigga off Kiest & Polk He didn't know that I was a real Bloods ass nigga But I keep a couple Crips off Wheatland Rd Everything be moving slow When I pour a four in double styrofoam cups Got a couple bottles off Riverfront Now we're rolling through the city Getting real fucked up! Some niggas might call it Mic City Know a couple gangsters that's getting it These niggas don't know bout 214, man My niggas really gritty! Yeah! These fools don't know, bout that 214! Now, now, now, now Tell me what you know about That Dirty South? Boys sitting on chrome And got them golds Thrown all up in they mouth! Down here, we call 'em grills Like UGK, we keep it trill Hey I might pop a pill And keep my sweets filled up with that kill Never none of that reggie, though If we gone blow, it must be dro! Flown in from Mexico If you got a better connect Then let me know! If not, then let me go Choke on that indo smoke Blow bout 2 blunts, then roll Back to that liquor store We finna go get some more Any brown drink ending with XO Henny, Remy, E&J Extra Old Corked up over 8 years old Gotta be top-shelf, you know Anything less? I'll tell ya "No!" This 214, It's Texas, hoe! And we like our music extra slow! Now let me tell you a little bit about that D-Town swag Triple D that, these niggas out here getting that cash Riding foreign car, behind tint, blowing that gas And we'll blast on that ass with that 4-4 Mag My niggas staying to they business And these haters, they mad! But I'm never fucked up about it Just keep smashing the gas Cuz I'm a South Dallas nigga And I'm built to last Coming off of 2nd Ave Getting at some cash Got killas in masks Reppin the set, while playing with techs My niggas, they sick So fuck your click! I'll fuck your bitch! Straight gangster shit I'll empty clips Then sank your ship And to keep from going under Jump in my whip & dip! I plead the 5th Yeah, I'm on some Dallas shit! You got Oak Cliff, The Nutty North And The Grove in the bitch These fools don't know (Fa sho!) Why we loving this shit But 214, you already know Just let me thug in this bitch!