| I’m creepin low in a flip, flop drop
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| top Stang, leanin to the left, gold dadens on them thang
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| I’m the MJG, pimp tight
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| put it to the floor, 5−0 swang a right
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| in a pina, butta, guts is a must
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| drivin in the shop, take a mile, grab em up paint a ten clear coats, to make it shine
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| make me circle through the neighborhood 55 times
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| with my gas tank full, drank a boor
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| fall up in the park after dark try to pull
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| me a young, stout woman, sumpin pretty
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| nice round hills, with them wear shaped titties
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| as the sun goes down, I’m gettin dirty
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| fall up and press a word get cleaned in a hurry
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| in my 77 Chevy, ass tight
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| pull off cuttin rubber, disappearin in the night
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| Just like candy (candy)
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| Just like candy
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| Its the same feeling (looks good to me)
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| 10 o’clock in the morning, his A got up Chief and Haywood some Kool-Aid in my favorite cup
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| comb my hair, get my grill right so I can feel tight
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| havin starch in my jeans and a fresh pair of Nikes
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| as I strike, out the door, to my superb
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| parked by the curb, candy coated bird
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| the sun got my candy lookin good enough to eat
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| you can tell by the way the girls act across the street
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| hit the horn, but no stallin, keep ballin
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| 4 o’clock sunday, I gotta hit the mall and
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| fall in full of them green trees
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| hurry up so I can catch Martin Luther King
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| fools all in the way with that econo-spray
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| need to take a few classes, learn about Manassas
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| pressure got me beamed, I’m talkin on the phone
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| tellin Penny thats the way to do it, baby represent ya home
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| Just like candy (candy)
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| Just like candy (It takes over me)
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| Its the same feeling (looks good to me)
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| Mechanical to pain will bring flavors to your mind
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| and in the summertime we got the whole block blind
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| some busta in a primed out Pinto poppin game
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| lying sayin he goin get the same thang
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| if you ain’t ridin wood, and leather, your ride ain’t hittin
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| a plane dash for a crush, forever got you itchin
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| 99.95, 30 day paint jobs
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| got niggaz ridin round lookin like a junk yard
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| you need to pull a check, wheeler check, wheeler check
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| stack up on your grip, get your shit sprayed wet
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| see most of these new paint jobs they dont do but if it ain’t candy then the job ain’t true
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| Its reserved for them ballaz, who make that cheese
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| it ain’t candy if it didn’t cost a couple of G’s
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| on your Jeep, your truck, your Chevy or your Lexus
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| 5th wheel on the grill like them playaz do in Texas
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| my folks gettin sideways in Vallejo
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| ballaz in Memphis slammin shut the Cadillac doors
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| full of ink so blinked I could fly
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| to a world where you have to roll candy or you die
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| descending, my mind goes back into reality
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| to some, having candy paint is just a fantasy
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| custom leather everywhere you look is woodgrain
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| big Ball tellin you its all about the candy mane
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| Just like candy (candy)
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| Just like candy
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| Its the same feeling (looks good to me) |