Lyrics:
wheel in the Wraith on the skinny tires
Crocodile python seats on the carbon fiber
Hot boy, stash box in the gas tank
Man of leisure to the top I took
miles in the sky
Please, undo your seat belt for takeoff
You are now free to smoke about the cabin, cabin
I'm Dre from back in the day, from
N.W.A,
a home
Well, have they got something shiny for me?
Anybody got a Christmas tree?
Can you partwith a toilet seat?
Ah, jump up, ah, jump up, ah, jump
around and have them looking like spaghetti
I say some shit, he be like, "Yo, you so legendary"
But he can tell just by my face he ain't getting any
Light up the broccoli kid
Throw the relish in my back pocket
Keep your eyes open, push your seat back, just flow
That's how we doing it
Bound by
give a fuck when I open ya up)
hot rocks fly from the back seat and
busta ass niggas run like a track meet
an if you crawl in the middle bleed mo'
Dance on em, in a fucked up whip, make my heart skip
Caught up in the drug traffic I astounded by the outfit
One twentieth tried to knock my whole click
give a fuck when I open ya up)
Hot rocks fly from the back seat and
Busta ass niggas run like a track meet
An if you crawl in the middle bleed mo'
tight jeans hell don't care. It's about ya stank and its about ya sweat, Its me and you on the floor hot dripping wet. See we taking this back to the ole
seat and take a chance.
Skankin' by numbers is the only way to dance!
You can shave your head or pierce your nose, NOSE!
Dress up in flannels
I'm not fucking on a plane, but I'm coming up
Silhouetted, coming
Coming out the underbrush
Found a Franklin underneath my
Seat crumpled up
Feeling
Floorfiller
Floorfiller
Floorfiller
Hey Mr. DJ in case you forgot
I came to get down
So you better make it hot
'Cause I can't jump around
the cush by the pounds
Nigga ankle blingin' baby wrist on freeze got
The pinky on the ice love a bitch wit gold teeth nigga hot
Girl nigga loving the G
East coast grumpy hoes
And my west coast girl got her own condo
Got me 'bout to buy a
Crib by the Hollywood O, oh
It's - that nigga they be checkin' for
For every black boy shot
By another black hand
It's war man
Sibling warfare
In god's land
Like hot damn
Where do I go
Where could I grow
Will it all end
Yeah
King of the place no palace
All star state
Allstate no Dallas
Uh
Put it in her hot dog bun
Mustard, ketchup don't need no relish
Uh
DJ up I'm
For my thugs for my thugs
I don't wanna be a player no more
I'm not a player I just crush a lot
But you know Big Pun and Joe still down by law
Who's
Check the temperature real quick
It's way too hot for this shit
I'm way too hot for your bitch
Bunny top at the signal, playboy shit
Going viral wit
boy you see nothing
But boss niggas, don't cross niggas
Pulling up like 4-5 cars deep with your bitch in the front seat playing our shit
Mobb shit
Don't
Verse: 1
You want in well I’ll open up the door
Hot chics tip toeing on the wood floors
You can tell by the quality I’m making a living
Triple coat
to the hot chicks
Soiled my crotch
Got sick just by the thought
Of having to sit by a crush
Don't like being put on the spot
Only cause I'm so damn awkward
Knee deep
Motivated
Take a peep
You fascinated
Take a seat
I'm activated
Big dawg
Validated
Making plays like I'm pistol Pete
Now me and wifey laying
call 'em Mike Bibby
He playin' games, we spin around and do a 360
That's a Xbox (box), you wear G-shock (ooh)
Draco rise, shotgun got the seat hot
I know you heard the terms chicks are like cars,
Well I treat bitches like drinks,
When I step in the club and by out tha bar,
So let me quench
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