Fuck it, call me a heathen, that's cool
But she forgot about the golden rule
These been thinking we ain't tripping off lyrics
Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks
We drive around in million dollar sports cars
I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
A fuck that we will never give is like our pops
Slangin' rocks with your glocks put this tape in your box
Memories of stolen cars swervin down abandoned blocks
Heard the sound of several gun shots
Livin the fast life, in fast cars
Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
Can't see his son shine like the four tops
Yeah, since i was a knee high
Cars are passing by, guy
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