I'm footloose, y'all be like "Damn," maintain with the right brain
Y'all ain't do it like Strange, finna burn y'all when the light change
I'm ski skirting, getting small and I'm in a straight line on my jackshift
Trying to shake haters I'm a playmaker blacking out in oncoming traffic
Just imagine if, the frame was a little bit lighter considering drag lift
I could probably clear a row of buses on you motherfuckers for trying to nab with
Don't get mad bitch, better jet son, want a bad bitch? Go and get one
I'm that quick, suck a fat dick, wanna rap up, need to get done
Suck it, I enter I might rip, burning this rubber I might slip
Struggling tryna get my grip, doing 80 right over the spike strips
With the pedalin motoring, going and so when I run it, then I'ma just fly through it
If you ain't numero uno you ass and probably don't do it like I do it
GoYo, if you can't hang y'all that's peace, see I B.Y.O.B
I bang y'all on beats, and I bet your backyard obese, bitch
Better believe I'm bombastic, bro know that my ball that big
Y'all fabric, fabricated in a fabergé egg sack shit
In a nutshell y'all cornballs, that's corn nuts y'all done warmed up
Snatching out on this bad traffic, I'm an asshole and my horn's stuck
I switched lanes, like Rittz came in the backseat with this thick mane
I'm an athlete, y'all are Mitch Bade and yo bitch came with a Ixnay
Uh, let me explain, got a sick brain, I was born nuts
Now, who's the master? Sho Nuff, ask J, yo you know it ain't no hold up (Ay!)
You don't have to answer, the fact is you can't survive the standard
Don't act as if, I ain't had your bitch holding me close like I'm a tiny dancer (Ah)
Now back on the highway, counting these headlights, get ya head right
I stand by, y'all out the car on the side of the street getting red lights
I see y'all stuck going round and around and around the back
I secure the trophy, count 'em out, Beverly Hills down and out
Songwriters
DYKES KYLE,KING DONNIE,VIGLIONE MICHAEL S.Published by
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management