Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song My Homeboyz Chevy, artist - Freddy MacheteDate of issue: 24.11.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
My Homeboyz Chevy |
| I’m on the block sacked up, |
| got twomps of kill, |
| Gurpin' in my 74 Bonneville, |
| no time to chill, |
| I’m the grind for real. |
| What you want? |
| What you need? |
| Tryin to find some pills, |
| well come holla at yo neighborhood thug supply, |
| got everythang a nigga love to buy, |
| It’s me, MD |
| skirtin from the killer whales, |
| Black and White is always on a nigga’s tail. |
| but I’m hypo, nitro, keep the Chevy Vogue’n, floatin, |
| from sac to oakland and the sack you smokin |
| nobody does it better, gangsta mac, kill a nigga and the bitch I swear to |
| gets my chedder), |
| ching ching and all that. |
| put it in a backwood |
| nigga roll that, |
| It’s nothing playa, |
| a little game and muscle, |
| it’s all it takes to get a gang of ruffles, |
| I sit low in my homeboys Chevy, my Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes, |
| yo baby peep the science of something that’s an actual fact yo, |
| you can’t mix love with rap, |
| you better step back |
| my K Swiss like to step on the gas, |
| and if you knew how fast, you’d think I just might crash, |
| I think I saw the devil all up in my purple bag, and still I had to roll fat, |
| Can you believe that? |
| Can I believe that? |
| Did you retrieve that? |
| the money in the bag, |
| homie i’m a need that, |
| my blackberry cellphone confuses me, |
| I got women talking about Nicky you using me, |
| I got coogi rap yo, in my speakers in the back, |
| my car shine like a new gat, I’m with the genie of the lamp, |
| comin off the exit ramp, |
| I grab cash like a calf cramp, |
| I like garlic butter with aleodo crab, |
| my son had a fight, |
| I told him work the jab, |
| sometimes i’m very stingy, |
| but yo i’m mostly greedy, |
| man eatin onion rings. |
| on Poke street, that very greasy, |
| man it’s cracking like a flower seed, |
| blowing off a Gang weed, |
| not to the authority*, |
| picture four more of me, |
| racing through this shit like the olympics, |
| running red lights, |
| never caring about a witness. |
| I sit low in my homeboys Chevy, my Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes, |
| yo baby peep the science of somethin that’s an actual fact yo, |
| you can’t mix love with rap, |
| you better step back, |
| my K swiss like the step on the gas, |
| and if you knew how fast, you think I just might crash, |
| I think I saw the devil all up in my purple bag, and still I had to roll fat, |
| Can you believe that? |