My Ride Lyrics by Nappy Roots

My Ride Lyrics

    [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 aint me
    with the tint the 35 percent so ya cant 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 duce
    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 dont touch it we commin down I-65
    nappy and company (vertical grills) on the cadilac we so real
    skinny deville return like a bat out of hell
    hell dont ya think nappy roots comin as well
    Big V, B. Stille, Prophet, Clutch, and Fish Scales yeaahh

    [CHORUS]
    My ride be sittin on dem 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)

    [FISH SCALES]
    ay yo thats 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 aspen rotten like martin
    two white dudes one looked like matt harprin
    later on he's eatin and ball in cleavland
    and 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 im'a ball on budget
    pumped out two thou on the 89 cutlass (biiitch)
    nah you cant ride im selfish
    aint too many ho's wanna touch this velvet

    [CHORUS]

    [B. STILLE.]
    hop in with me we bout to leave
    you gotta pop it I drope 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 Prophet)
    extra clean you cant tell me nean
    drop the top showin off for the summa
    the cadilac stretch on dem 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 thats 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
    dont throw dirt on my name no shirt as I lean
    out the window pane you hear the country boy sang

    [CHORUS]

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