Sittin' in the back of a car Music so loud can't tell a thing Thinkin' 'bout what to say I can't find the lines You know I love you a lot I just don'
Sitting in the back of a car Music so loud can't tell a thing Thinking 'bout what to say And I can't find the lines I'll go on and on with you Like to
Vertaling: Big Star. Terug van 'n motor.
Baby, we'll live a hell of a life One day I'm gon' marry a porn star We'll have a big-ass crib and a long yard We'll have a mansion and some fly maids
3X) Pimpin ain't pimpin ain't easy.. G-O-D, F-A-T-H-E-R Hoes start runnin when they see my car Even though I'ma pro wrestling star they know I, don't
me I'm skinny But still I'm too big for a Bentley You are Your car What could represent me? Too Godly To be a Bugatti You honestly Must design me Somethin
they front the bill I'm the big Dogg, best beware You coming with me, if you stop and stare Should be on my team in my car on the way to the spot Yes
got that shit right, ya hear me? Ay, let a motherfucker go ding, that's a 150 thou Yeah, that shit should add up to about 5.4 I be right back, I'm finna
precision lookin like a straight star With the buttons undone, showin off her lace bra My partner in the back, 'til the smoke hop in they car Okay, broad{?} in L.A
shit, blisters Stickin' to the script, movie star money And if you gassed up I leave the car runnin' I'm a big smoker, I'm a little drinker The peace
shit, blisters Sticking to the script, movie star money And if you gassed up, I leave the car running I'm a big smoker, I'm a little drinker The peace
cash money [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Bun B] Well it's that big body nigga in his big body car Got a big body bopper with that million dollar car She said
47 is my f-cking address, huh [Rick Ross] I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car I got a chopper in the car I got a chopper in the car
my fucking address I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car I got a chopper in the car I got a chopper in the car Yeah, load up the
on how to infiltrate a milly stock Mooch or cream silly, go for delf What you like how we go back to Cali, kick a suede walking billy Hoes like big Willy
big deal Playin' down on Broadway, gettin' there the hard way Living from a tip jar, sleeping in my car Hocking my guitar, yeah I?m gonna be a star
