Lyrics

[Verse 1: Skinny Deville] Feelin' easy like its Sunday morning steak and eggs Hey livin off some big rims lookin' like some blades Play her like a pimp type a nigga ain't me With the tint- 35 percent so you can't see Fish Scales shotgun pass the "L" to Big V Flip flop candy lookin' so wet it drip drop (shiiiine) From the tip top chrome double deuce Make a bitch stop jaw drop ballin' off this hip hop On a budget back and forth from Kentucky We them type of niggas that crack corn in a bucket A hundred and ninety spoke god damn Look but don't touch it we comin' down I-65 Nappy and company (vertical grills) on the Cadillac we so real Skinny Deville return like a bat out of hell Hell don't ya think that Nappy Roots is comin' as well Big V, B. Stille, Prophit, Clutch, and Fish Scales yeaahh CHORUS My ride be sittin' on them hundred spokes (hundred spokes) My candy paint straight from the honeycomb (honeycomb) Wood grain interior, leather and chrome (leather and chrome) Everybody ride out its on its on (its on its on) [Verse 2: Fish Scales (B. Stille)] Ay yo that's my cab jumped out leavin' a tab Hold on man we'll discuss that later B. jumped out like (fuck that hater) Fell in the Aston Martin like pardon Two white dudes one looked like Mike Holmgren Later on he's eatin and ballin' in Cleveland Now I jumped out like "fuck your season!" Van dam woke up in the Grand Am Real hot no air for the car jam Twenty inches ride both on probes Look nice Chevrolet on pipes Keep Chevy tint that twinkle so bright B.O.B I'm 'a ball on budget Pumped out two thou on the 89 Cutlass (biiitch) Nah you can't ride I'm selfish Ain't too many hoes gon' touch this velvet CHORUS [Verse 3: B. Stille] Hop in with me we bout to leave You gotta pop it I drop a dollar in ya pocket Gas up the crotch rocket pass up the cops blocked it (Hey B. Stille can I role with you and Prophit?) Extra clean you can't tell me no naw Drop the top showin' off for the summa The Cadillac stretch on them bow legged stillets Where the candy paint sets like a wet cigarette Bubble coat primers chrome spiders inside us Big enough for my team and a couple of trainers But it hold no minors, that's major Wood grain and ya get deep beaters big features Feel boom from the beats in my big speakers Its on in my seats and my signature Don't throw dirt on my name, no shirt as I lean Out the window pane you hear the country boy sang CHORUS