| Ride, slide, dipping low
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Ride, slide, smoke control
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| What you gonna do when the shit goes down?
|
| Six misfits rolling through your hometown
|
| 'Cause we ride, slide, so hit the floor
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| When the streets grow cold and my sight turns red
|
| Got the pistol grip-hold and a muzzle to your head
|
| Yeah, somebody talked, yeah, somebody said
|
| Yeah, somebody’s buried, yeah, somebody’s dead
|
| We found my White Wolf stashed in my white ball cap
|
| Got your white ball jacked and my Caddy’s lab black
|
| Got the gadgets all wrapped, devil hanging out the back
|
| Now you’re just a story on the cemetery track
|
| We lock, and we load, we rock, and we roll
|
| We cock, and we go, it’s the Undead show
|
| You know I mean what I say, better drop when we spray
|
| It’s too late to pray on Judgment Day
|
| Hear those bells? |
| It’s the end of your life
|
| Someone’s gotta live and someone’s gotta die
|
| Here comes hell, it’s redemption, right?
|
| Now you’re just a ghost on a cold, blind night
|
| Ride, slide, dipping low
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Ride, slide, smoke control
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| What you gonna do when the shit goes down?
|
| Six misfits rolling through your hometown
|
| 'Cause we ride, slide, so hit the floor
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Roll up in the spot like a live grenade
|
| And every day we celebrate like a pimp parade
|
| Swimming in liquor till the end of my days
|
| Rolling with Funny Man in a cloud of haze
|
| Who would’ve knew I turn the trees blue?
|
| You’re sitting on the internet like «is this shit true?»
|
| And I don’t give a fuck about your bad review
|
| Till I pop out the screen with a big «fuck you!»
|
| Then hop in the backseat and get to the blasting
|
| Cut down your dreams like the Hollywood casting
|
| Except this shit is real, not acting
|
| We’re still murdering so thanks for asking
|
| Too damn smart to get caught up in legalities
|
| Blow you off-stage, just another fatality
|
| And, sir, you don’t know that we lack morality?
|
| «Fuck, suck, dick, lick, man, we nasty»
|
| Ride, slide, dipping low
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Ride, slide, smoke control
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| What you gonna do when the shit goes down?
|
| Six misfits rolling through your hometown
|
| 'Cause we ride, slide, so hit the floor
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Semi-automatic words you heard to spray the masses
|
| Gas is lit, quick, spark on the matchstick
|
| The class is classic, lyrical backflips
|
| Got you bitches begging for the backstage passes
|
| Rolling with the bosses, causing havoc
|
| I’m just filling in because they’re never gonna have it
|
| So sad, you sad, bitch, so glad you have this
|
| Got pneumatic, emphatic Black Cadillac shit
|
| Get your cardiac kit, where’s the party at, trick?
|
| Watch me pull a hat trick, joint on the glass tip
|
| Got the room loud in the valley
|
| All eyes on me, you can call me Makaveli
|
| We don’t give a fuck, we never did
|
| Hit you with the thunder where you stand, that’s how we live
|
| Believe me when we do it, yeah, we fucking do it big
|
| And if we show you how to win, we do it for the kids
|
| Ride, slide, dipping low
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| Ride, slide, smoke control
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes
|
| What you gonna do when the shit goes down?
|
| Six misfits rolling through your hometown
|
| 'Cause we ride, slide, so hit the floor
|
| Black Cadillac, on them hundred spokes |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Cadillac, artist - Hollywood Undead. Album song Five, in the genre