Текст пісні
What up, B-Real
Duke on the 808
I stay riding
I'ma keep something clean, something nasty
An antique, or maybe it's a classic
I'm from the city where them hoes get ratchet
And you can hear them sundowns when I'm passing
It got stars in the ceiling, leather on the seat
Candy dripping off it, looking good enough to eat
Horses under the hood with gorillas in the trunk
And I don't know if Im a whip the Cutlass or the donk
Where I'm from is fuck a Benz
I rather cop a T-top cutlass
Spokes & vouges, chrome or gold
And you can hear me when I'm coming
A Hood classic, this a dope boy dream
When you come from nothing
Straight out the booth looking like candy
I ain't do no cutting or buffing
I spent 10 on the body just to go LS swap it
What you know bout spending 30 on a donk and can't even drive it
What you know bout paying painters that run off with the deposit
Stop by Black correct the stance, if it ain't tucking I ain't driving
It got that pressure, hoes love to shake they ass when it's playing
Redid the motor, bigger cam, fuel injected electric fans
Glass house, they yelling snug, I chunk the deuces at my fans
Say turn it down there go to laws I just got the highs playing
Im a keep something clean something nasty
An antique Or maybe it a classic
I'm from the city where them hoes get ratchet
And you can hear them sundowns when Im passing
It got stars in the ceiling, leather on the seats
Candy dripping off it, looking good enough to eat
Horses under the hood with gorillas in the trunk
And I don't know if I'ma whip the Cutlass or the donk
Exotic gas in my cigar
AC blowing like supreme
I need a wash, gotta stop by Jerry, but this bitch already clean
Ain't shit for sale nigga
This straight drop, I'm talkin' tippin' off the scale nigga
96 Impala hug the streets look like a whale, nigga
Yeah, you might hate my guts
But one thing for sure, two things for certain
I'ma keep a bad bitch, some money in my pocket
& Of course I'm ridin' clean, nigga, believe that
I'ma keep somethin' clean, somethin' nasty
A antique, or maybe it's a classic
I'm from the city where them hoes get ratchet
And you can hear them sundowns when I'm passing
It got stars in the ceiling, leather on the seats
Candy dripping off it, looking good enough to eat
Horses under the hood with gorillas in the trunk
And now I know if I'ma whip the Cutlass or the donk
A antique
I'm from the city where them hoes get ratchet
Sundowns when I'm passing