Round Here ^{Chorus: Chamillionaire (Paul Wall)} Guess it's just a hood thing, woodgrain, grippin on the Friday* My chain lookin like the sun Swag turned way up, maybe 'cause I'm draped up, stay plush I don't know where y'all come from But that's just how we do (that's-that's how we do it 'round here) That's how we do it 'round here (that's-that's how we do it 'round here) That's how we do (that's-that's how we do it 'round here) That's how we do it 'round here (that's-that's-that's-that's-that's how we do it 'round here) That's how we do ^{Verse 1: Paul Wall} Knock, knock, who is it? Guess who come to pay a visit? It's the Mr. Walking Blizzard, with the "here lizard, lizard" Flyer than a flock of pigeons, the earlobes are vivid But if you try to test, you'll get smoked like a brisket Last palace, fast livin, Family Guy like Peter Griffin And my wallet is stuffed like turkeys at Thanksgiving I grind hard, my pockets full like Easter Mass Paper long, my money stretchin like yoga class "Get Money", yeah that's my task, I'm throwed like a piece of trash My wrists light up like camera flash while commentators live in the past But me and Koopa back on our mash from Antoine to Ledbetter Got more paper than a mail shredder, 'cause 'round here we go getters ^{Chorus Verse 2: Chamillionaire} Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so it's time to turn up your tuner With radio play or not, they talk about me like a rumor (rumor) And they hope my album will leak on the streets and come sooner (sooner) I now renounce my throne as the King of Zamunda Hollywood, not true, been sick, ah-choo The inventors of the "what it do, " where the Don Kings of the candy blue We don't really mean to brag but we legends so act like you knew That we one notch below Pimp and Screw but we (way higher than you) I'm skatin, no Daytons, with Paul Wall to plate and (plate and) Ya must've got us mistaken 'cause ain't no play-action fakin (fakin) Earthquakin, trunk shakin (shakin), the realest in my state and (say what?) The treat me like I'm God, they be like As-Salamu Alaykum, so vacant ^{Chorus Verse 3: Paul Wall} 'Round here the grind pays, it's all work and no play My pockets thick like Deltas and my Sprite's pink like AKA's Brace yourself, you'll be amazed, all haters can suck on these Me and Cham back in the game, I'm Reggie Bush, he's Drew Brees I run the mic and he's so thoed, now all the blogs are quite pleased 'Cause they thought we fell off like dry scalp and bad weave "Get Ya Mind Correct" please, my wrist cold like winter breeze 'Cause I'm grindin up all night like little kids on Christmas Eve I keep the stacks on deck like a lawn chair The wristware give off a glare, so when ya stare, do so with care 'Round here we one hundred but them boys far from it Everyday I'm in the paper like the comics, how we do it 'round here ^Chorus