Lyrics Chevrolet - Blue Swede, Björn Skifs

Chevrolet

I’m the reason your dough goin' thin
Cause y’all in the way — when I see nigga’s I see bowlin' pins
You can call me «Mr.
Do It First»
Oh, you like that?
I got that just to do a verse
And I stack cause I’m after the bread
I got a G for every bump on your face — and every nap on your head.
I be set for a week while I’m back from the dread
With a brown bag fluffy as a package of bread
Ye-eaah?
HAHAHA!
WHAT?!
Yeah!
I DON’T KNOW!
Uh!
Yeah!
'Ey?
PHILLY ALL DONE GONE, READY FOR IT!
What I’m doin'?
Nothin'.
— Chillin' at the Holiday Inn, (C'MON!)
With a bottle of Jin (LLOYD BANK!) — and the model’s a 10
I ain’t worried about the kid’s, ma' swallowin' them,
Another victim to my matol again
You’re fallin' off — and I will not follow a trend
Go call your boss!
— I put a hot hollow in him
I never lost!
— I'm cooler then Chicago’s wind
Butter’s soft in the Benz and the 9 hold 10
As time keep’s tickin'.
— I'm Chevrolet dippin'
Navy blue swede seats with the grey strip in
It’s plain to see, — you can’t change me;
Cause I’m a be a nigga for life, (WHOOO) four figures in ice
I bet the price on the fling of the dice
Shorty with me?
— We slingin' a pipe
Chrome thing on right, one on the wip, — it’ll ring on your top
And I’ll be 5 miles, ahahahaha!
— And I’ll be 5000 Miles from the block, man!
C’MON, LET’S GO!
LET’S GO!
KEEP GOIN', KEEP GOIN'!
We want it.
Yeah!
KEEP GOIN', BANK$!
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
KEEP GOIN', C’MON!
C’MON!
YEAH, UH!
KEEP GOIN'!
'EY!
You talk like you’re rich but really ain’t got a home an' (Come Up Show!)
Been in everybodies video but your own
New York is the sound, clown I walk with a pound
Now the talk of the town real as the chalk in the ground.
You ain’t nothin' but a duplicate followin' the ruler
Chain, watch, and ring, you borrowed from the jeweler
You had to see the chain, scene swallowed before I knew it
Don’t trip!
— That'll get ya hit;
- hard in your Madolah
I ain’t really for the talk, — nigga argue with the Ruger!
Have yourself a drink roll a bottle with a Buddha.
(ooh!)
I’m the last one to run, — the first one to come;
Shit!
— Your boy smooth as the verse when I’m done.
(DAYUM!)
I used to say I wouldn’t amount to nothin'
Even my momma ain’t know she had a star since the oven, cousin!
You gotta love him the kid’s gettin' his dollars, man
I’ve been a part of «God's Plan» since the sonogram.
Ha-HAAHHH!
Come Up!
Cosmic Kev, Lloyd Bank$ in the studio!
Hahahaha!
WE AIN’T OUT, WE GOIN' IN REAL CRAZY!
YEAH!
Bank$, c’mon, man!
I’m right back it, baby!
C’mon, C’mon!
Back to yo' thing!
Yeah!
Check it, man!
Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!
Yo!
Who else but Blue could do what he do?
The nigga’s he ran the street was the crew that he flew
I embrace the «New Jack» assuming he’s true
But he was soft as a cloth — so I auctioned him off
Man.
— That ain’t no way to talk to a boss,
Fuck a middle man, bring the hawk to the Source.
I’m ballin' - from the heliport to the Porche
With my Dominican bitch (COME UP SHOW!) — that walks like a horse when I floss
It’s hard for anybody to come off
I ain’t a come up!
You need karate or the torch,
Niggas hate it!
— Now they feelin' sorry on they porch
Cause I made it!
— I don’t let the Ferari on the courts
That ain’t really a run;
- compared to shit we done
The crib got more land then Area-51.
You take one of mine your whole family get to run, (oh, my God!)
I ain’t Diesel!
— But they scarred of me with a gun, I’m the one
TRUST ME, MAN!
YOU HEAR THIS?
THIS IS GOIN' DOWN!
'Ey, man!
Check me out in the papers, man!
Oh, y’all ain’t hearin' this?
Lloyd Bank$ in the studio…
Yeah!
POWER 99!
SHOUT TO Q-DEEZY, COSMIC KEV… YOU KNOW HOW IT GETS IT!
YEAH!
I’m back at it!
'Ey!
EACH AND FRIDAY NIGHT, COME UP SHOW!
'Ey!
C’MON, LET’S GO!
Aye writing for Malotti’s that’s what you gotta chew
The stadiums jammed back, — but they ain’t checkin' for you
Man, this is for the nigga’s that’s boxed up
For throwin' the blocks up;
- and couldn’t shake jake when they popped up
The media be killin' my vibe but
I’m ghetto like the paper that you hang from the ceiling to get the fire stuck.
(Whooo!)
I got a pool and I can’t swim!
It’s like I sleep over and can’t bend, — then I’m on a plane!
Money, clothes, and hoes, I get it all the same
I take rolls of those and sit 'em in a chain
Some rose and froze, they bitter and ashamed, come on!
I ain’t your regular nigga in the game, I’m on
I’m a pimp soldier!
— Mid Rover!
Pants off my ass, — hat — tilt over
The same in the winter, — blade under the skully
I’m hotter then the phone booth outside of the Deli
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on!
Ahahahahahah!
Yeah!
I HEAR 'EM TRUST IN HERE!
Oh, boy!
Hahahahahah!
Oh, boy!
YEAH!
I don’t know if they ready for it…
Yeeaah!
C’MON, BANK$!
You gotta go in one more time!
C’MON!