Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Swangin', artist - Scarface. Album song Know More (The Best of Stalley), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Blue Collar Gang
Song language: English
Swangin' |
We gon do this one here for the ruckus |
Climb on in, let’s ride |
I’ll show you what it really look like |
High up in the sky |
Like overpasses, pullin' in the intersection |
Give a whole new meaning to the words «moon roof» |
Outer space, baby |
I don’t think you will ever, get this high |
In a vehicle ever, ever again |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
Swang, cock the wheel, hope my drink don’t spill, damn |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Boy I see you swangin' |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
Boy I see you swangin' |
Swang, cock the wheel, hope my drink don’t spill, damn |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Two fingers, bending corners, the block stand still |
Cops on my heels but I’m beating down still |
Chrome on my lap for these jackers out to kill |
Feet size Shaquille, it’s magic how the paint pop the grill |
Pop the clutch and squeal, blades chop like «Kill Bill» |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Boy I see you swangin' |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
You see me swangin' |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
Boy I see you swangin' |
Swang, cock the wheel, hope my drink don’t spill, damn |
Grab my shells and roll up, triple stack my cups up |
Jolly Ranchers and Xanax, my special potion cola |
My seats feel like sofas, cup in my hand, no coasters |
This drink don’t spill, I’m focused, I sip, I bend, I smoke up |
All in one motion, doing 60, I’m floatin' |
Elbow out the window, I’m gloatin', ridin' in slow motion |
My new car look like my old one |
Boy, boy, boy I see you (I know) |
Boy, boy, boy I see you (I know) |
Boy, boy, boy I see ya swangin' |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
Swang, cock the wheel, hope my drink don’t spill, damn |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Boy I see you swangin' |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
(Boy I see you swangin') Swang, cock the… |
Cherry red paint make the frame glow |
Them gold flakes make it rainbow |
When the sun hit it, it shine from every angle |
Furry red dice dangle from the rearview, a pimp’s cathedral |
Diamond in the back, the hard top is my halo |
Let my sweet angel ride shotgun and chill |
Boy, boy, boy I see you (I know) |
Boy, boy, boy I see you (I know) |
Boy, boy, boy I see ya swangin' (aight, bring the beat back) |
My music jam, I’m banging Screw, shout out to my Houston crew |
Uncle Bun and Scarface the reason why my car laced |
With detachable alpine face, fifteens and loud bass |
Had to listen to Screw, right? |
First time I poured lean, I had to use up two Sprites |
I swear I drove like all night |
Under that Houston star, lazy — rest in peace to the Pimp |
You see me swangin' |
And Big Moe, the Barre Baby, the Barre Baby (swangin') |
The Barre Baby, the Barre Baby |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
Swang, cock the wheel, hope my drink don’t spill, damn |
I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Boy I see you swangin' |
I’ma show you, I’ma show you how to twerk the wheel |
Chrome on the feet, chrome pipes, chrome grill |
(Boy I see you swangin') Swang, cock the… |
Glass, glass 84s, gleaming under my ride |
A summertime vibe, it’s 1995 |
Back when, back when DJ Screw had the city slowed down |
Three in the morning, drank was pouring out |
Back to, back to take you back to where you couldn’t ride slab |
Cause the elbow killer comin', tippin' up the ave |
And catch a nigga slippin', then beat you for your shit |
And put a bullet in your head, leavin' your people sick |
That’s why I be trippin' when I see 'em ridin' Vogues |
I whisper to myself, «Boy, these niggas don’t know» |
Flaked out boat paint, they Hollywood hoppin' |
With French antennas, the pop doors poppin' |
The eighteens speaking so it’s no back seat |
Got them big head rests, and one fat freak |
That gon' suck a nigga dick off, the Southside thing |
You can zig, zag and lace but you ain’t Southside, mayne |
You see me swangin', swangin' |