Lyrics:
She's gotta flat head Ford makes her sound real mean. Straight as an arrow she's a clean machine. She's got pipes that run straight out. I'm hated by
on
Rave on
Messiah come in a flat-head Ford
To the Kansas young and dumb and bored
Rock on
Adrenaline spills like blood that pours
Screamin' out
thing was gonna flag her lace
To tee up the start of this street race
What's missing most from this car drag
Was a blue badged oval Ford Flat head
I
Don't worry what I spend just
Forget about the cost
[Chorus]
Thirty one ford with a flat head
Merc
Channelled too low I'm a real gone
Jerk
flats I gotta check ford
My name ring bells ask around you can check for it
I don’t do Sh*t unless I get a check for it
I keep it on I ain’t gotta check
your niggas with your trapping ass
Tom Ford
Tom Ford
Tom Ford
Coming up
Coming down
Riding clean fix your head, in my crown
Bad bitch
H town
I packed it all on a whim
Threw an old Hank cassette tape in
Dad's '84 rusty Ford
He swore we'd never make it
I quit my job, let my momma down
I packed it all on a whim
Threw an old Hank cassette tape in
Dad's '84 rusty Ford
He swore we'd never make it
I quit my job, let my momma down
Bitches, bitches, bitches
Invasion of the Flat Booty Bitches
I'll tell you 'bout a day that I had
Seen nothin' but bitches with no ass
I woke up early
Oh hey
(Okay)
Okay
Back to the top drop that
(Drop, drop it)
Head lower in my lap
(In my lap)
I lay you flat flat flat
Like my pop flat fast
(I go
a bitchin'
Let's haul ass before the baby gets burned.
Gas up the old Ford, get out the road map
They got a head start about half a day
Load up
I got an old V-8 from the year I was born
Don't look like much, just a flat black Ford
The engine's clean, I could paint it someday
But most
I'm trying to still grab microphone with both of my hands pulverized
Robert Ford, this shit Robert Ford
It's getting Robert Ford
This shit Robert Ford
a Ford right out the back
So come on and roll me over
If I ain't there in nothing flat
With a honky-tonk attitude
I'll be doing the straight line
tilts at sixty six point
Six degrees do you think
It's a coincidence globe heads follow Satan
We are flat earthers
We love our God
We are flat earthers
menaging
Her head game on tisin, my ford giato rising
I'm riding out my my ride it got the wings
A bad bitch
She a bad bitch and she light it up tint
spin around
I pop a flat pill and I'm gettin wild
I'm come through with the tec and the mac
Knock ya head off fuck ya cat-in-the hat
Rollin i8, got
Crooked behind my back ya like a spine wit scoliosis
I'm focused like the Ford car, private like a G4
Try me get shells in ya waves like a seashore
See
get fucked and get some head?
'Cause bitches all over wanna get fucked
I just need one with a lot of butt
Me and my homie rollin' and smokin'
Flat
rappin'
1983, Too $hort
Word for word
Like this baby, Invasion of the Flat Booty Bitches
A nigga like me I know what's up
I want a nasty bitch with
pu-uh-purposes
Smokin burners (burners)
Finger on my thumper (thumper) in this concrete habitat
Never know when you just might have to, put a head on flat
you pull up in a Taurus, Ford (Focus)
You still can't afford this (Aston)
I just pulled up in a Martin, no Lawrence (yeah, aight)
I'm on tour like
stopped Cleveland's re-election plan
Head to head, again in '92 they ran, Cleveland, ahead
William Jennings Bryan tried, but McKinley won instead
Bryan
from your head into your heart
French toast on the flat top
This Sunday morning, yeah, she's cooking for him
And for them
Ghosts
Making toast
Gone
Why,
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