Let's Ride

[Intro: Wale] You know guys, it’s really Nick’s decision, dude, what happens with this mixtape. This is totally “100 Miles and Running,” dude. I couldn’t get any drops from any famous people so I’m just gonna say it myself, dude. I appreciate you downloading the mixtape, however. You got it, whatever, you know, Catchdubs/Wale thing. So, what I need you to do right now is roll your windows up keep blowin’ on something – the AC blowin’ on you. Tell your girl don’t talk to you for about 2 minutes and 30 seconds, 3 minutes, or however long we about to do it. Yeah, you, don’t say nothing, okay? Just bob your head like you get it [Verse 1 - Wale] Peace to Maryland, but still an uptown roamer Aroma, strong enough to bring ‘em outta coma The wake up, dawg get ya face off the pillow Necessarily rough ‘em, I’m a fightin’ armadillo No fumbalaya, no fumblerooski One choke of this you a note from Mariah high Wale they call me Tiger Stripes I’ll forever move any cat they admire mine With that MJ flow they hurl mine to my So the mind they mine don't coincide with mine Go inside the mind, you will find the mine You see my mind’s a bomb sittin’ behind my eyes Detonating when I rhyme a rhyme So in layman’s terms my words burn There you lyin’ a rhyme Also, this mothafucka got a nine to five Hardest spittin’ mothafucka this side of the line Harder niggas try to hate me, they be lovin’ this side They were niggas quite similar to pitching the lines But the same deposition take an L every time And I’m no ‘Los Rogers, no Mike Williams Holla at ya boy young Roy’s in the kill shit Home of the terrapins, beware of the Gilchrist Weed’s played out, they on that pill shit A bad mothafucka, where that MILFs at? I work overtime, Millsap Y’all Millhouse, blew y’all head Pause, you not near Wa-le Who not fear? Dawg, yeah, dawg, you, them E-T-C I.E. I get sick, white tee, I be kicks Ya’ll be highly obliged when I drop my shit [Hook - Daniel Merriweather] Me and you I think we should ride Come on come on come on come on Don't worry just done get inside Come on come on come on come on [Verse 2 - Wale] I can’t promise this verse will be better than the first But still how you niggas I get jacks on the first In search of my perfection, no gotta love it further In search of my direction, my genre is certain It’s hip-hop, not pop Been waiting for the real, real long like skirts at a sock-hop I like bitches in Air Maxes without socks And when they wear makeup I’m like “No sir” I can’t fuck with the alter Sorta like a dyke that I altar I gotta bounce, I don’t call her I just bounce like there’s no hole Barry Sanders on turf That means I have no block True, indeed, I don’t rep no block I rep for the people that rep hip-hop And it don’t stop I went to school with the white boys So I can understand the plight for ‘em But I don’t mean to finna fight for ‘em I ran the street with the street niggas So I can understand police victims But I don’t mean to finna speak for ‘em I mean to speak for ‘em With the s’more from the narrative Check it And you can tell everyone I ain’t finna lie and I ain’t finna fake It’s Wale Folarin, I tell you how it is State your fuckin’ biz If ya’ll about to hate then alleviate the diss And talk some more shit Ready? Huh [Hook]