We get low and let them trunks lift up
Ay ay ay ay
[Verse 1: Sir Michael Rocks]
We all know Mikey aka the Great Estaré
Looking rare homie, what's the skit
So you could holla at me if you want me If you don't keep it rollin'
Don't be droppin' names like a ton of bricks
I'm in the '96 SL5
Update nothin' on that badboy
The button stick when I be unlockin' it
So I grabbed the Cutlass keys like a fuckin' thief
Take a sweet, gut it, stuff it then we puff it baby
The Baileys, mixed with Grandma ye'
See we callin' it the "Grandmama"
See, just like the Larry Johnson kinds
In the huddle with the bubble goose down
Downtime spent working on my rhyme schemes
Them alpines hit like a young Rocky
A skinny dude but I'm eating like I'm stocky
Bucket seats 70's Challengers for the amateurs...
This is for them Regals, Granddaddy's Cutlasses
Lincoln Town Vehicles, the speakers gon' love it
The trucks is all low like I talked about his mother
Drivin' around slow, like there's an accident or somethin'
[Verse 2: Chuck Inglish]
Niggas will dump cigar guts into anything
Piggy bank change, couldn't break it if the ground shake
Earthquake shakin', San Andreas fault
First-place trophy is the only way to race in them
Talk to me dawg, please dont talk at me
Thought I saw the credits runnin on with all that acting
Wass happenin', Shirly, Rerun, Rosci
See me with it now like they gotta get theirs tomorrow
Triple gold spokes on them Lincoln town cars
Like back when I was driving to the mall where that Circuit City was
Gotta get this installed
[Bridge: Chuck Inglish]
That flip face touch screen remote control and all that
Bass treble biz
And it smells like a loud pack
(Hit that AC fan)
Strawberry air freshners to mix with the scent
Shooting free throws for the win..
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