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Dip.. bitch.. bitch.. dip |
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Switch.. hips.. lick.. lips |
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Miss.. twist.. quick.. flip |
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Then.. stomp.. then.. stomp |
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[J.R. over Chorus] |
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Geah! |
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Let's get ready to bounce y'all |
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Let's do it |
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[Verse 1] |
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I'm so low on fitteds, rose gold show was glittered |
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The blue was down, Juvenile, "Slow Motion" wit it |
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The slow flow is vivid, yo whoa hoe I live it |
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Oh no, throw bows, pros go low and dip it |
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You know how R twerk, I hit the bar first |
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For a bottle on a model tryin to converse |
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Hoe in the back tryin to get out her bra shirt |
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And pin a broad against the wall like some art work (whoa) |
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Huh, but I rolled up in a Beamer |
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Damn near frozen to my sneakers like I rolled up out the freezer (ice) |
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Plus you ain't never seen a soldier on a skeezer |
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That make the same chick dip it lower than Christina |
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Stomp, stomp, nigga front, stomp 'em out |
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Dip switch lick, that's what the song is about |
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Get ya condoms out, yes it's time to slide |
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Mom hot, parkin lot, girl get inside the ride |
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Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp |
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Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp |
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Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) |
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Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp |
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[Chorus] - 2X |
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[J.R. over second Chorus] |
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Yeah, I don't think y'all understand the true meaning of this song |
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Let me make it a little clearer for y'all |
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Yo |
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[Verse 2] |
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This that get it girl, twist and twirl move behind her |
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This that brush down your Gucci, Louis, new Gabbana |
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This that Luke baby move lady choose the grinder |
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This that 2 Live Crew, I need a "Hoochie Mama" |
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I'm just sickenin and gifted listen this Dip is the one |
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Six minutes, spit it, shit it, dig it, I did it for fun |
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I that nigga who comes, check and see ya ex and skeet |
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Can't remember me cause I stay on the tip of her tongue |
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I make the bitches bounce, pop a duck get 'em found |
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Cop a Dutch, split a ounce, chop and cut big amounts |
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I'm in the Switzerland, aqua Swiss, Swiss accounts |
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Without a deal still my pockets like Swiss account |
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I eat mobsters for lunch, feed 'em rockets and pumps |
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Get it shot, listen ock play 'Pac if you want |
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I'm Cadillac scrap that's my top in the trunk |
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No cover gutter brother the color's tropical punch |
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[Chorus] - 2X |
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[Verse 3] |
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I'm 'bout it 'bout it, crowd the houses and drought with some O's |
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About the foulest cal for cowards I crouch and reload |
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A patty waggy ask ya catty I style on them hoes |
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From nasty natty Cakalacky a mouth full of gold |
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I'm a nuisance you slut, get ya coupe full of guts |
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Front stunt, all you want, chump ain't stupid enough |
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He'll get hit split shit tryin to prove it to us |
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I sip sizzurp and keep Crunk Juice in my cup |
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I'm about getting straight some type houses estate |
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Your wife countin my cake, her nice mouth on my snake |
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Watch surrounded by flakes, boy and these rocks are annoyin |
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I can't keep 'em outta my face, uhh |
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Who's as icy as me, shit I ice sickle T's |
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It's nothing for the stunt and turn your wife to a ski |
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My chain hang and man she delighted to see |
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A hundred karats, faggot wrist full of vitamin D |
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Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp |
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Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp |
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Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) |
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Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp |
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[Chorus] - 2X |
