Believe it Flow

(*talking*) Yeah, y'all see us looking good mayn Hand on the wood grain, 4's yeah We still tipping baby, yeah [Kyleon] I'm coming down in my slab, 84's on Perelli's Candy paint buck seats, I call it peanut butter jelly Pouring up the purple, blowing on some'ing smelly In a button drop the top, and put the dropper on the belly Hand on my wood, same thang on my dash Got the pop trunk glowing, lights say I'm having cash I'm rolling on glass, paint dripping red wine Big grill with a woman, the fifth wheel on behind I'm flipping through your town, higher than a cooter brown Got some'ing on my lap, that'll make a hater move around I'm doing bout a buck-o-five, on the highway Bad yellow bone bitch, sitting sideways I'm smoking like Day-Day, on Friday Nothing less than a slab, parked in my driveway hey [Hook] I got them swangas on my Lac, I'm taking off the ceiling Candy paint butter, fifth wheel and the grilling Sipping drank, blowing kush I'm chilling Strap in my lap, if you thinking bout stealing [Kyleon] Dead End South Park, my hood's so legendary R.I.P. Fat Pat and H.A.W.K., that's so necessary The first hood, to ever bump Screw music So if it wasn't for us, you boys wouldn't of knew shit I'll show you how to do this, 4's and the vogues Looking like a Phantom Rolls, as I'm closing my do's Suicide-suicide, like I'm killing myself Damn Killa your shit clean, yeah I'm feeling myself I got a bad chick with me, she Black and Italian Pretty eyes thick thighs, I call her my black stallion Got my chain and medallion, mo' pieces than a hippie I done seen a few boys, but ain't none fucking with me Uh no sir, I'm in them streets like them yellow lines Stacked up like some pancakes, I keep me a yellow dime [Hook] (*talking*) Purple Punch nigga, hey Storm You swanging the slab, a lil' bit too hard mayn You damn near spilled, this hundred dollar cup On my thousand dollar jeans mayn