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​Keep You Jammin

This song is by Guerilla Maab and appears on the album Year Of The Underdawgs (2003).

Rock, what are you doin'
I thought you said you was gon have a track
Ready for me by this afternoon, you know
This here ain't me, you know dat
I gotta have somethin' to keep 'em jamming
Uh huh, yeah, I'm kinda cold for this shit naw
Its growing on me, lets try this right quick, iight
Come on Rock, let me try it

I'ma keep it jamming the Southside, what the deal
Where the boppas bop, where the tops drop
And the choppers chop, candy paint out the shop
I'ma keep it jamming the Southside, keep it real
?Prenorcamines?, sipping on codeine
While the hoodrats scream, watching diamonds gleam

(Cl'Che)
Too much jealousy, and everybody wanna stop me
From doing what I wanna do, been keeping it true
With a chance to lose, my city credibility
That I originated for Screw, when I say Southside
It goes for everybody, sitting below the sun
And whoever thinking this rap shit is done
Nigga guess what, it just begun
Tasters just dropping, choppers still chopping
While they be chopping, your head off
There they go, those who don't know about a damn thang
Be the first ones, to run they mouth
Hoodrats in the hood fantasizing, about my ice
Fellas want me to drop a verse, but they can't pay the price
I'd rather be the bitch, a nigga love to hate
And I've been the bitch, a nigga love is fake
It's a what in here, why you wanna (hate on me)
Cause our rhyming is tight, the way my (diamonds gleam)
Cl'Che keep you jumping, up out your seat
When its time to run, you crank up the scene
We on light green, so we can ball and parlay
Stuck in Houston, do everyday
So you can sit and feel what I mean, when I say Southside
Everybody sing with me

(Z-Ro)
Too many people, be trying to watch a nigga
They setting up road blocks, and trying to stop a nigga
But I'ma represent the Southside, for the hell of a swang
I'm sticking and moving, to cold knock a nigga
3-57, Mack 11 pulling out twenty five
Up in a 12 gauge pump, will keep the party alive
But ain't no need for the tripping, I'm steady sipping on bar
The marijuana be burning, every time I flip in a car
Dumping the ash, looking for the law at all times
One deep in the Benz, you wanna plex
I'll suppose to be jumping your ass, steady punking your ass
A buffalo bayou, a square nigga dumping your ass
Permits for the cash, I'ma get ready for the South
To meg a killa beg, like a bitch
Kinda sound like when Chris Tucker laugh
Thought you was a man, but when the shit hit the fan
You was running down Ridgevan, can you understand
I can go hard on the god damn dank
I can go hard on a god damn drank
Sip a four, sip a eight, sip a pint straight
Let it down, and scrape the plate
You wanna meet the man, and never think you wanna damn
Son of a bitches up in my face, there ain't no time to waste
I bleed the block like everyday, and put it down in the studio
With Cl'Che, I got too many problems on my mind
And another serial number, on my nine
So if you looking for Z-Ro, come to Ridgemont
When I'm staying and rapping, I'm still on my grind
And like Mafio, by the year two triple O
I'ma come down, in a six double O
With green flow, mats on the floe
Candy paint on my do', its bout time for the hook and it go

(Cl'Che)
I'ma keep you jamming, while the beat is slamming
I'ma keep you moving, I'ma keep you grooving
I'ma keep on climbing, make my money grinding
Bumper kit reclining, diamonds blinding, shining

Here I go, and everybody wanna approach me
The way I'm flowing, and I what I claim as my click
Down with the Guerilla Maab, and the Z-Ro
On that flipping, sits some say its hard to spit
But its easy to do, when I come knocking but natural to you
Flip you out, how I made flip my style for a while
But I'm representing the Southside, putting it down
Wherever you go, and you jamming this spots
Like Houston on lock, 1.97 on The Box
Banging out your speakers, every time you crank up
Your choppers, and your heaters
I'ma keep you, jamming the Southside
I'ma make you, wanna ride on the Southside
We'll teach you, how to make your diamonds blind
At the same time, your trunk recline

(Trae)
Popping the trunk, dropping the top and I'm ready to ride
Southside till I die, I gotta be keeping it crunk
Put me on the microphone, and I be wrecking the beat
And at the same time, I'ma be ready to make a seed
And that Guerilla Maab ain't, fin to be playing with boys
We leaving permanent scars, and steady wrecking the bars
Leave me on the six team, I'm fin to be dominating
Nobody wanna go to war, 'cause we be going too hard
No more ghetto fame, 'bout the click that I claim
Worldwide outta state, everybody be yelling my name
Resurrection, all in your motherfucking face
We get the crowd crunk, every time we step in the place
Keeping 'em jamming, keeping 'em bobbing, and keeping 'em rocking
And I'm the type of nigga, that'd be blowing your speakers out
Without a doubt, you better be coming correct
Ready to wreck, cause this click, done gained they respect