Mask Glove N Keys

(Prada did it)

(Ryan, what took you so long?)

The car doesn't start, we're gettin' light on our feet

Yeah, the Type R's stock, got a downpipe and springs

No shot he doesn't talk the clowns always sing

I would serve any custy, I got down syndrome fiends

Before the YouTube shit, was stealing Hellcats out the dealer lot

Real striker music, took his whip straight out his parking spot

Huh, bought the ARP, I burnt my hand all on the chop

The SRT ain't ever get no break, the burnout made the coolant pop

Better listen up before you hop in the V's

You can't leave the house without a mask, glove 'n keys

You can't take a car unless you're fast on your feet

You can't lose the stars unless you black out the Jeep

Today, I want a Beamer, fuck it, I'ma take yo' shit

Niggas be fake gangster, where I'm from, you argue over blicks

I had to throw the single on my car, the twin was saying shit

You pressed about a follow back instead of buying back yo' whip

Beams sat on new rims, the next day, some milk crates

Benz wrap was frozen, it's the same color milkshake

My drip is Wockhardt, your man's shit is stilpane

Askin' where is MBox, I stay where the pills made

But that's an easy way to die, you better test your luck

The Trackhawk engine got way too much torque, it made her pussy jump

I ain't fucked her yet, he better get her, she sending Florida dumps

I'm hot inside the tech 'cause on the drill, I'm never freezing up

Chrysler 300, but the whole car's a swap

Shell came from Copart, the rest from the block

Eight hundred horsepower, straight off the lot

But it ain't from the dealership, it came from your pops

Bro, tried to tap my shoulder, I let the fully blow

She yelling at her man all through the phone with dick all in her throat

Yeah, this a red key, you drove a Scat' and now that bitch feel slow

Arguing with the cops, he searched the whip, but he ain't check her tote

'06 Charger, but it barks like a '22

Front end, the old gen, the back half is brand new