Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Slow Down , by - Clyde Carson. Release date: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Slow Down |
| I tell 'em, slow down |
| You know you can’t catch me |
| I move too fast on the gas, don’t chase me |
| Slow down, slow down |
| (I tell 'em…) Aye, I’m on the case getting sideways |
| Dolla fo' five on the highway |
| You know a nigga state to state |
| On a dolo mission, I got a date with the cake |
| Wide awoke, 3 A. M |
| Prolly touch down when the sun come in |
| Aye, when them guards hit the gate |
| I be tired as fuck after that 8-hour race |
| I come from the land where we swing our cars |
| Figure 8 Benz concrete leave marks |
| Call it paid, super-charged |
| Back to back race the Benz with the four door Porsche |
| I’m tearin' up tires in this luxury |
| Hella smoke says she wanna fuck with me |
| Money on my mind, ain’t nothin' for free |
| Tryna keep up with me, but it’s nothin' to me |
| I tell 'em, slow down |
| You know you can’t catch me |
| I move too fast on the gas, don’t chase me |
| Slow down, slow down |
| (I tell 'em…) Slow down, you know you can’t catch me |
| Hype without fugitive; |
| Snipes Wesley |
| Fuzz get on me, tried to test me, arrest me |
| Wetter than a mothafucka, whip like a jet ski |
| Ride like Presley, pills like Graceland |
| They wanna ship me to Rita and off to reception |
| Nah, ain’t tryna see the state pen |
| I’m Black Scaled out in my Ray-Bans |
| Diamond-certified, I ain’t never lied |
| I ain’t had L’s since Pac died |
| Ridin' through the biters |
| Couple bundles talking 'bout sliders |
| Run from the labors, mind’s still swift |
| FedEx movement all on the bitch |
| Audi with the stash box, Cazzy too swift |
| No frontin', push a button, give a nigga that gift |
| I tell 'em, slow down |
| You know you can’t catch me |
| I move too fast on the gas, don’t chase me |
| Slow down, slow down |
| I’m Jeff Gordon in his heyday |
| Ridin' like Tony Stewart smashing through a two-way |
| Doing 'bout a hundred, kinda burnin' up the Louis |
| Louis, Louis 13th mothafucka, yeah, Louis |
| D.U.I. |
| drivin' black, Henny on my lap |
| Pedal to the floor, with a 808 clap |
| Money motivated, doing sprints when I’m chasin' |
| And it gotta be a hemi, I don’t normally do the basic |
| Six-cylinder, r-really, bruh? |
| Slow it down, keep up |
| And I’m killin' ya, hope I’m not offendin' ya |
| See you at the finish line, leavin' em |
| Burn rubber, bu-burn rubber |
| This is how we do it when I’m dippin' on a corner |
| Burn rubber, bu-burn rubber |
| This is how we do it in Northern California |
| I tell 'em, slow down |
| You know you can’t catch me |
| I move too fast on the gas, don’t chase me |
| Slow down, slow down |