Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song My Homeboys Chevy, artist - Mac Dre. Album song A Tale Of Two Andres, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.06.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fillmoe Coleman
Song language: English
My Homeboys 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? |