Lyrics
Say man, I don’t give a fuck about the FEDs
D E A, G T F, Task Force, Jump-out boys
Or your local neighborhood robbers
Baby, I got to keep on pushin'
Pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I’ve got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on
Well it’s the king of the hover trade and the sergeant of snow
They call me Mr. Killa Gram in case yo ass ain’t know
I’m the boss baller of blow when you come to the Gulf
Other cats holdin' some weight but they ain’t holdin' enough
I’ve been around way before the Interstate was on fire
Before they hid it in the gas tank or the tire
Before a motherfucker even knew about a stash box
We just put work in the back of the car and mashed out
Now ask a nigga that was doin' it in nine three
On the Interstate in a rental car you can find me
Suitcase is stuffed like a holiday Turkey
Chopper right beside in case a nigga try to jerk me
I did the city thing plus I played it out of state
Either way a nigga was known for havin' a lot of weight
Try to knock me down but it only made me bigger
Haters wanna see me fall but a nigga gotta keep on pushin'
Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I’ve got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on
I’m on the corner from sun up to sun down
Competition gettin' hectic, I’m headed for out of town
What I was, sellin' for twenty, niggaz sellin' for ten
So I’m 'bout to take it to drastic measurements for my ends
My partner Rob in seventeen and in the Benz
And me I’m in a bucket but fuck it, that’s how it is, shit
I got an ounce about to cut it into stones
Next stop, Port Arthur, Texas, I work it in the Lones
I’m a little nigga on his hustle 'bout to rise
I was cuttin' seventeen and I was only payin' five
A week went by, and a nigga took that dry
Back to H Town, with re up about to score me nine
A Pyrex bulb and the whoop so throwed
I cooked it for nine then I stretched it for nine more
Whoa, I’m that nigga bakin' with holes in his door
Crummy niggaz sellin' that ether but fuck it, shit sold
Ay, no matter how hard it get you know I’ma
Real talk, real niggaz do real things you know they
You already know, free Pimp C nigga
U G K for motherfuckin' life, U S D A nigga, C T E nigga
You know them Houston niggaz you know they niggaz
Keep on pushin' nigga, G A niggaz you know they already
Real niggaz do real things nigga you already know nigga
C T E nigga, Rap-A-Lot records
One day you’re here, the next day you’re gone
'Cuz some nigga set you up on the phone
Shit, I play it how I go, I’m in a league of my own
You ain’t gotta front me shit nigga, I’m buyin' my own
Whether it’s sixteen bars or sixteen bricks
Move 'em one at a time, I’ll take sixteen trips
I’m in the kitchen with the white, choppers by the back door
Mind on my money, but I swear this shit stack dough
Square’s in the closet, a hundred thousand in the box spring
Got the stash box in the back of the Mustang
You know I keep a down ass bitch to dry that shit
Look, I-T a nigga yea she ride that shit
Hey, I hustle harder, I hustle smarter
Just left the magnum lot tried to whip me up a charter
I’m so ahead of my time, ahead of my grind
Look at snowman bitch, it’s a must that I shine
See my watch is like, damn, my ears beggin' for attention
A quarter mill around my neck, in case I forgot to mention
You niggaz actin' like hoes so motherfucker keep gushin'
I’ma do what the gangstaz do and nigga keep pushin'
Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I’ve got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on pushin'
Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin'
© EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.; WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP; NODDFACTOR PUBLISH
ING; YOUNG JEEZY MUSIC INC;
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