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Big K.R.I.T.( Justin Scott )
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Keep It Boomin
[Hook]
Ain't no way I could be losing when I'm winning
Losing when I'm winning
Glass house, never ever tinted, let them see me in it
Celebrate the grind and the vision, Lord we independent
Country nigga made them pay attention, we ain't even finished
Gotta keep it boomin'
Gotta keep it boomin'
Lord keep it boomin'
Gotta keep it boomin' for you one time, multi 'till the sun die
[Verse 1]
Woke up out my dream, me and my life's supreme
Fuck you mean?
Went from rags to riches on the scene, now they call me king
Father saw my crib like, this the wildest shit he'd seen
Living proof that God got a plan if I don't intervene
Old school cleaner than a bitch put it on some heels
Round table eating with my team, let me catch the bill
Touching down
Fuck you niggas out here always hating
If I listen to your barking, I might never get this paper
Kept it playa from the rooter to the tooter to the tomb
I been on it since Ms. Rhonda went and pushed me out the womb
Hallelujah! Ain't no losing when your winning on the court
I supplied my own demand, ain't no way I come up short
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Hoped up out my whip with the candy drip
April showers when they lay me down
Underground, I won't smell the flowers
So I'm only up early morning putting plans in motion
I can't let this go to waste, nigga out here been losing focus
Chasing after hoes and acceptance from the non-believers
How the fuck you judge the South if you never ever seen it?
That's just on the real, fuck you if you think its cotton fields
Nigga we out here buyin cribs bigger than the buildings that you in
Put that on my grill, that's just how I feel
Blow a check, looking like I'm King Tut
All this gold around my neck
Lord, Hallelujah! For the shine I was given
All the hate I don't mind
I'll recline cause I'm winning
[Hook]
[Outro]
Yeah, yeah
I'm talking, like, sonic booming, like Jackson State. You know what I'm saying, like, a trunk of the old school whip. Driving by your grandmomma house trying not to wake her up, but you keep hitting donuts cause you ain't got nowhere to go kind of 808 sub booming system. The interior fucked up, but you really don't care at all. Nah, your playa-potnas wanna ride with you, but they don't give you no gas money kind of booming. I'm talking about '99. SLAB vogues, get you an adapter. You don't really want your rims to scrub and all, but that just how it be. Sub on. (echoes)
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