[Verse 1: Chuck Inglish]
Yea, for real? Like, what the hell is this?
Girl's moms wish they daughters would have met me first
She like, it's no problem but chuck you ain't liver
She dig pro ball players, love what they drivin'
High class lex coupes beamer benz hybrids
Girl it ain't the car it's the nigga that's drivin'
And if it ain't American then I can't even drive it
Windows way down let that engine start pipin'
Rumblin', drop the frame touch down jugglin'
The ball: won't drop it or fumble it though
Dolphin skin greys white strings in the lace air elevens
Cold case when we was in eleventh grade
Don't let me hear you say that chuck ain't dope (nope)
Cause if you did you'd be tellin' a joke
Now that's funny bro
And I'm laughin' all the way to the bank
Bank shot off the glass, peep my no-look pass
[Hook x2: Sir Michael Rocks]
We on net, field goal match point (match point)
Touchdown bet a pound flip a coin (flip a coin)
We champions, baby, where my trophy at?
We got handles baby, don't reach
[Verse 2: Sir Michael Rocks]
You can see 'em both talking, both walkin' at the same pace
Both heels clickin' like they runnin' in the same race
Same clothes, same face, 20-carat ankle bracelet
Little flicker is a-wrapped her ankle (bing)
Baby blue infinity truck
In the baby blue carolina sweatsuit, ten and a half
Goin' half on her baby was a part of her plan
These wannabe baby mommas tryin to offer their hand
They wanna beat box model be in actin' classes
Drink c-rock bottles out a couple of glasses
They assets was they asses they upset
Often askin' where the bathroom at?
And cash rules everything around my set
'92 corvette the off color floor set
Hilfiger jacket zipped to the bottom of my neck
Now pass me a swish like the bottom of the net
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