My Ride

[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