Lyrics:
Panda motor on a '94 'Vette
Fish bowl, televisions pimpin' I ain't done yet
I got the checker red leather and I'm sittin' on chrome
On 26 inches just
(Skrrt)Yeah that’s me pulling up in the whip, Sour
Hop in the whip, it’s foreign
Got a bad bitch, she foreign
200 On the strip, I’m floorin
Suck my
Miami Mary, leather veil
Anti-Christ virgin on a dead man's shell
Fifty four destination
Acid suburb hallucination
Take away the power strip away
of the equation
Who've kept it real since day 1
I'm talkin' handcrafted baby
RM Williams drip
RM Williams drip
Rockin' these leather kicks
Only the finest
got the checker red leather and I'm sittin' on chrome
On 26 inches just to get my roll on
On a Jesus songs on, make them bitches get low
I get that
They destroyed your city
They'll destroy you as well
They're lecherous and treacherous
Hell-bent for leather
Each of 'em bigger
Than all men put together
see Iraq
Binoculars, eyes is out, sun they watchin us
Jake hit the strip, now police try lockin us
It's laundry mat track, keep the loot in Iraq
Iraq,
know
Find a bad one who know how to speak Chicano
White leather vans, fuck some Balenciagas
Walmart belt not that Louis Gucci Prada
If you popping
afford me
I got 30 on my left wrist 30 on my necklace
Niggas throwing shade at me
But they can't affect this
Running up them blue strips niggas looking
stuff. If you don’t like it, then tough so what. I’m getting my paper, I’ll pop a hater. I’m rolling on wood and leather no imitator. You want something
loyalty and love
(Except loyalty and love, between thugs)
For you, I pull up in the whip and spray the whole strip
(For you, I walk up close and lay
Lalalalalala
Saw you walking down the street
Holding hands with some other guy
Wearing a sharkskin suit, black patent leather boots
& big brown
strip
Blow the dice, roll them shits, hit another trip
Shit, I'm on some shit
Hand's fucking hotter than a leather in the six in the summertime
strip
Blow the dice, roll them shits, hit another trip
Shit, I'm on some shit
Hand's fucking hotter than a leather in the six in the summertime
Panda motor on a '94 'Vette
Fish bowl, televisions pimpin' I ain't done yet
I got the checker red leather and I'm sittin' on chrome
On 26 inches just
beside me take my hand
Strip before the altar
Let's test the blood of our command
Groove on
Assume the motion
Breath the holy pain is resurrects
She wanna be my Mrs
I know that that's her wishes
She be chewing bubblicious
Strip club call her Delicious
That ass is ridiculous
The Lord is my
Ayy, racks on me, I keep them blue strips (Blue strips)
She lickin' on me like Cool Whip (What?)
Left a ho, I got a new bitch (New bitch)
New Bentley,
Raise your can of beer on high
And seal your fate forever
Our best years have past us by
The golden age of leather
This was the night not long
Push me to the limits of the "Excitation", i guess you’re never tired
Giving emphasis to all your tiny gestures, so deep your black leather eyes
Do
at the slot machines
Him in leather, her in jeans
All night preacher does the ceremony
His wife throws Minute Rice
Her tears are phony
But wedding vows
Yeah I just put some miles on a passport (Pass pass)
Hating what you mad for? (You mad?)
Leather Gucci bag inside another bag (Bag bag)
Imma cop it I
Want all my niggas to win together
(Woah)
They know i’m applying pressure
Hit the strip know i’m throwing cheddar (Woah)
They know i’m applying pressure
Obsessed with blue strips
I want me some chips
I'm really obsessed with them benjamins
Jug and finessing the pack
Run up them racks 'til I get
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