Lyrics Slab Holiday (Dripped & Screwed) - Sauce Walka

Slab Holiday (Dripped & Screwed)

Shoutout to the don, man\nThe king of talkin' 'bout this slab shit\nBut I’ma tell you how I put swingers on the foreign and did me though\nSpill me?\nYeah\nIt was a '17 Maybach, all black, leather seats\nFresh out a coupe shop, it cost me 'bout two hundred G’s\nCould’ve bought some Forgiatos, but it came on twenty-threes\nI’m the young nigga ridin' around the city in one of these\nPillows in the backseat recline, this a cabin\nOnly sit two people up in the back, it come with tablets\nTV screens lavish, Maybach when you turn it on\nI can change my ambient lights in my cellphone\nRed, blue, or green\nV12 engine mean\nRefrigerator up in the back to keep cold my lean\nWhen I used to be a fiend\nRidin' down King\nWrapped pink all on my car 'cause I made millions off of queens\nThat’s what that double M stand for\nI took off the twenty-threes and equipped glass fours\nTwenty-inch fifteens crawl down on hoes\nI done turned it to the Olympics, they gotta hurdle my foes\nThat’s for sure\nI’m the first in the city to ride glass on a Maybach\nHad the streets goin' wild like Mike Billy way back\nWho? Nigga, Mike Jones\nBut the difference is, that was the cheapest car I own\nSee, I bought twelve more of them bitches\nI went Mulsanne and then Rolls on them bitches\nThen I bought the '65 and threw fours on them bitches\nNow that’s two cars glassy\nSauce Walka all through the streets splashy\nDrop the top on my car, I’m ashy\nBut my whips clean\nThese quarter million dollar cars on G15s\nFours pokin' out by the grills, lookin' like lip rings\nOGs think I’m trippin' for real, but this was Hawk’s dream\nEvolution, education, revolution\nYou think swingers wasn’t 'posed to levitate, then you stupid\nThese exotic cars\nExotic engines for exotic stars\nTakin' bitches on exotic trips for a ménage à trois\nAt the seawall, everybody wanna know who you are\nWhen you a ghetto superstar, nigga\nYou think if Pat was alive, he wouldn’t drive new cars, nigga?\nYou think he wouldn’t have giraffes in the garage, nigga?\nThem ain’t OGs\nBack then, they was ridin' in 83s\nWe also had in-dashes, not fuckin' touchscreens and Bluetooth\nNo USBs, OnStar, or Google\nStop actin' like this whole world we live in ain’t new, fool\nStop actin' like the culture shouldn’t raise with the time\nPeople wanna see Ferraris on swings comin' down\nBut the fours look cheap when they only on the fleek\nThe people from out of town can’t understand how we think\nBut it’s Forgis on the Rolls truck\nNigga only twenty-five, you in your slab and to him you like an old fuck\nReally like an old duck with no luck\nWhole time you got more money than that nigga, you really swoled up\nYou wanna show it\nBut you ain’t even ballin' right and you ain’t even know it\nPut them swingers on that Lambo' truck and then explode it\nPut them swingers on that Aston, no, go two-door it\nWatch they crew know it\n'Cause this ain’t no 1982 comin' through\nThis a 2021 or 2022\nI threw Bape on my Maybach, they knew I was the truth\nI threw Bape on the '65, decapitated roof\nThe brains is loose\nI bang the goose\nThe birds, nigga\nI was swingin' 84s over curbs, nigga\nLike I was tryna cut grass\nMy cars talk back to me now, I had a bus pass\nThe seats make the girls hop in, I call 'em touch ass