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Cadillac
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Trae
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1
Fell in love with a Cadillac [x2]
2
Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
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[Hook x2]
4
Broke up with my foreign car, and fell in love with a Cadillac [x3]
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Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
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[Trae:]
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I woke up, thinking foreign car
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But the Cadillac, got a nigga sitting in a daze
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24's and a swiss, sitting sideways
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Trae flipping through the hood, like I'm running through a maze
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Find me trunk up, with the top back
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One deep in the front, two freaks in the back
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Haters mad at me, cause I'm mvp stats
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Better give me fifty feet, cause I'm good with the gat
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Good with the track, like I'm good with the hands
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15's banging, like I'm battle of the bands
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New Benz like send, they run up out of grand
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And the trunk read Trae, so they know that I'm the man
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Me Paul Wall, in a slab out of Texas
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In a Cadillac, had to get rid of the Lexus
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Rather be gangsta, tipping on something
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With something in the clip, that'll get rid of the plexing
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[Boss:]
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I fell in love, with my Coupe Deville
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It's on a switch, it's the truth for real
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Scraping the back down, these Southwest streets
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Got a few teeth in the grill, loose for real
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Big pumps, two to the front one to the back
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One wheel in the air, gliding like that
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Three O-7, rebuilt without chrome
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Hundred spoke Daytons, with the two prones
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Next week, I'm in some'ing from the Lowrider book
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I'ma show these motherfuckers, how a lowrider look
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Hit a switch on Boss, will get your lowrider took
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In '98, I use to be the lowrider crook
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Fleetwoods, El-Dogs Sedan Devilles
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When I ride, always equipped with handy steel
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Cocked up on three, and got em standing still
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I'm in the attick, wondering when I'm gon land and chill
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[Hook x2]
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[Juicy J:]
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I'm never staying focused, always smoking
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Presidential kushing, always choking
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Nigga I drank up, all your purple
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If I find out, that shit be potent
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Mayn I get high, fuck that shit
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Your baby mama out here, sucking my dick
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I'ma make her pay me, that child support
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I'm a pimp out here, trying to make it rich
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If you really wanna get high, let me know
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I'll tell C. B., let you hit that blow
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We can ride in the Cadillac, way in the fucking back
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Hitting all the spots, just hogging that hoe
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Then take a lot of freaks, to the Hotel room
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System on blast, you can hear that boom
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Mayn I'ma pop bout, two three X
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And drop my drawas, and take this chewing
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[Dj Paul:]
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See in that M-Town, we snort that blow
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Turn around mayn, and whip our hoes
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Take me big gulp, full of that drank
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Now I'm high, don't know what to think
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First I had em beating fast, now I got em knocking slow
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Sniff a lil' mo' of this sip a lil' mo' of that, even down the middle whoa
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Closed up my foreign do's, opened up my American do's
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'72 Sedan Deville, 84's and 20 inch vogues
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Chandillere, hanging from the top
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Fish tank, lit up in the glass box
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But I had to put, the toy fish in it
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Cause the real ones died, from the kick box bitch
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[Hook x2]
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[Jay'Ton:]
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Jay'Ton, pull up in a Lac cocked up
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22 inch chrome, bags popped up
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Diamonds in our mouth, cash stocked up
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Ice game six, so the game locked up
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9-4 Fleetwood, headlights on
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Fifth let back, but the trunk moved on
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Flying through the hood, with the six 12's on
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Seal in the groove, super kush to the dome
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19 in the game, only love for my Lac
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Never loving a dame, swang to the left
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When I'm hulling the frame, trying to take mine
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You'll be hugging a stain, like I'm hugging the lane
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Screw tape still on, drank in my cup
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Everytime, that I roam
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Roach ass hoes, still calling my phone
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Representing for the South, H-Town is my home
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[Trae:]
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I'm a 24 inch black, Fleetwood glider
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Tipping the block, they love the way the drop sit wider
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Lord knows haters mad, when the left fly by ya
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Call it what you want, but the Lac stay way liver
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Boppers all on my dick, with the trunk up
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Beating up the Boulevard, with the beat pumped up
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Hit a switch on the remote, the front jump up
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Run up on the slab, roam that'll get you lumped up
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Hopping out looking like do's, got threw on backwards
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Throwed wardrobe, by my bed son of a bastard
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When it come to Cadillacs, Trae got that mastered
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And the game that I got, way flyer than nasa
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Me and Three 6, representing for the drank sippers
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Iced out grills, and the wood grain grippers
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84 swangs, and the late night tippers
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Riding for the hood, Cadillac tight whippers
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[Paul Wall:]
107
I got that candy red, with extra gloss
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Heads turn, when they see me floss
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Scooped up Trae, on a sunny day
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Holla at Jay'Ton, and my boy Lil' Boss
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Trying to stay popping, and hoes stay bopping
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Cause the swangas poking, and the blades stay chopping
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Beat the case, but the feds still watching
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In the Fed-Ex truck, right down the street plotting
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Dropped the top, if the sun on shine
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Sipping on some potent, puffing on pine
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Slow Loud And Bangin', in a candy slab line
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Down here in H-Town, it go down
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Old school Cheves, and throwback Lacs
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Swangas and vogues, with a trunk that crack
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This how it goes, down here in the 3rd Coast
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Houston Texas, at the bottom of the map baby
123
[Hook x2]
Burbons And Lacs
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