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spray painted black
With fake leather seats from Warren's

Though the wind may whisper and moan sometimes
On a hot desert night it is still
Though
"by the way, baby, what's your name?"
Said, "I go by name of Lois Lane"
"And you could be my boyfriend, you surely can
Just let me quit my boyfriend
Ayo check this out son
This is my man Nas Escobar
And I go by the name of Cormega you know
(you gonna get your self murdered)
Yo check this out
And in a fancy car with a private bar and a personal valet
There was a bunch of cold eyed men sittin' at a poker table
Bettin' hot stakes all around
malia
Dripping sauce by the litre

Hook (x2)
Sauce swag drip
Have a seat you might wanna watch this 
Cute as fuck with my clique 
Yeah it’s us don’t trip
Big stepper got my seat back (seat back)
Bossy nigga keep ya feedback (we don't need that)
Private jet we at the SeaTac (that's where we at)
I'm feel
you want me)
Feet on dash, dirt road like this shit country
Up in the coupe, got lil’ shawty in the front seat (Got lil’ shawty in the front seat)
Trash
hold MotherFuckas
You dont know MotherFuckas 
I dont owe MotherFuckas 
Look
I never gonna answer 
Just thought I give a heads up
I hit her with the hot
Breaking off a piece of me, yeah
Then I send it off to Ben and Reed, yeah
Mix it down and make it clean, yeah
Pussy rappers they can take a seat
try to leave me she gone love me regardless
Blowing money in the louie store I treat it like target
They be saying he hot as me but I can see that he
switched up bet he regret it
Be selective who you slick with leave your body lonely leaking
Where I'm from the winter long forget about you by the weekend
Ceramic , Titanium seat buckle , twin turbo , that horse fenna hussle. The ostrich the leather its custard , shit cant you tell I was made from that
smashing like that
On the real deal
Live from the Apricot Hill
I'm in hot pursuit being pursued by
Shit that's way to cute
Slipping out my lane
trigger pullin'
that's how we be
loadin' clips then release
eight deep
in the three-hundred E
leather seats
and in the trunk artillery
up the streets
of old me
Forever hot headed but never got cold feet
Got up in the game won't look back at my old seats
Clique so deep we take up the whole street
I
a beat
Pulse dancing around
Flying off of my seat
Blood runnin’ hot
X marks the spot
Gotta feel that click
Tired of feeling lovesick
I can feel it skip
I'm livin' lavishly 
Yea that's all me, n***a 
Yea that's all me 

Ferrari California with the red seats 
Rollin' California by the OZ 
I'm feelin' like
never fails
I been through hell
Had to get it all by myself 
Asked but
No one came to help
Do you understand how I felt?
(Do you really )

I confess
Hearts on my shoes
They got the eyes on em
They want smoke too
Might have to slide on em
My bitch too bad she wear designer
Im too hot I feel like
Boys and girls
Take a seat, time for show-and-tell
Gotta talk about a living angel
That made my education such a living hell
Alright
Alright
Alright
the word a whole new meaning
We about to make it hot and steamy
Angel in the streets, Demon in the sheets
You got it like that, boy, take a seat
Behave and I
on my lips and I think she left some poison
Hopped out a hot box gassing out the foreign
Hopscotch, blocks hot, keep the shots pouring
Drop top, get
Fat punnany meat, me hot nuh bloodcleet
Dry, fresh panty seat wid mi clean underneath
Di man say me likkle like e space inna fork teeth
Mi pum pum
with me
By the looks I got ya shook up and scared of me
Buckle your seat belt, it's time for takeoff

I don't think you're ready for this jelly
I

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    In a song from the 80's, by the legendary Blue Oyster Cult...."Oh no! They say he's got to go, go. Go ....."
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