Lyrics:
there have money to spare
the American dream
cars that have bars take you there
the American dream
on stage each night: Fred Astaire
the American dream
and 1930s most American cars and farm machinery had the option of running on gas or on methanol; most racing cars still do run on methanol. And George
Ain't none of my cars American, King of Zamunda
Let's have a heart-to-heart, drink wine, make art
Backseat of the Benzo, the AMG
Can you love a thug, is
fills
20 inch wide, 20 inches high
Ho, don't you like my 20 inch ride?
20 inch thighs make 20inch eyes
Hoping for American 20 inch pies
Pretty ass
fills
20 inch wide, 20 inche high
Ho, don't you like my 20 inch ride?
20 inch thighs make 20inch eyes
Hoping for American 20 inch pies
Pretty ass
the party's only up in the club?
Wherever we go, they just showing us love
Move 'em in, move 'em out, move 'em in, move 'em out
Move 'em in, move 'em out,
crowds that Slim draws is rowdy as Crenshaw
Boulevard, when it's packed and full of cars
Some of these crowds me and Snoop draw
Is niggas from Crenshaw,
crowds that Slim draws is rowdy as Crenshaw
Boulevard, when it's packed and full of cars
Some of these crowds me and Snoop draw
Is niggas from Crenshaw,
at the Harvard club
Dear Diary
I like high heels
I want to fit in
My nightly blood lust
Has overflowed into
My days
Thats Bone
And the lettering
Is
I'm a stunt
Ride in the car with some bump in the trunk
Tone in my lap and you know it's the pump
Breakin' down the good weed rollin' the blunt
I'm a stunt
Ride in the car with some bump in the trunk
Tone in my lap and you know it's the pump
Breakin' down the good weed rollin' the blunt
But the feelin' so sweet
Got me feelin' like a beast
A sickness and God as my witness
Boy, the foreign car makin'
My pockets pretentious, lord
Somebody
the club, get some oxygen
Your friends say I'm a player
You'd be lucky to keep me
You know people gon' be
Talkin' 'bout us weekly
My car be in a robbery
P-O-R
A sickness and God as my witness
Boy, the foreign car makin' my pockets pretentious, Lord
Somebody help me
I done seen things I don't wanna see
I'm out
American sedan, the shooters got Berettas in their hand
This is Mafia, veterans'll plan
Word to the tape on the brick, this is raw
I'm in the 4x4, 8 plus
swole
Could afford to get up and be anywhere he go
VIP at the club, backstage at the show (yes, y'all)
The best crib, the best clothes
Hottest whips
through in that Porsche
On your face american boy, American car
American boys who starting race
This shit fucked up that all them
American boys are starting
reality.
I got Evangelicals, Zionist, Jihadists, Sunday-Morning Demagogues, 700 Club, and all they preach is hate.
I got a new car, mortgage scams, master
you're a rockstar
My momma talkin' to me, tryna tell me how to live
White boy, white boy, in your cop car
But I don't listen to her, 'cause my head is
Jersey
Now we can do this a couple of different ways, it really depends
Could give them classic NY jeans over the Timbs
Or I could spit about my car
water, cashew nuts, extra socks, an American flag
Old boots, paper towels, Shopgirl: A Novella
Deodorant, house keys, sweatshirt, an umbrella
A golf
numbers
So it's plain to see where my whole plan come from
American dream
I'm living the life still
Way I shine is like a zillion dollar light bill
numbers
So it's plain to see where my whole plan come from
American dream
I'm living the life still
Way I shine is like a zillion dollar light bill
to get
Rushed past and then I have
To miss the bus to catch the
Next one in line at last if I get the cash
Maybe I can get a car or maybe I could
Get
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