Lyrics
Chicago’s #1 Flicka Nigga back on it
2003 Caddy with that burberry rag on it
It’s mink on the floor, the seats is ostrich
What else can I say family we some mobsters
This cash money you know we the boss of this hood shit
Floss in this hood get, shots in his hood quick
This big tymin' man, put them little rides up
We 600 whippas put them little 5s up
Cash money, we ain’t duckin and dodgin
We bustin and ridin, Caddy truckin and prowlin
What the fuck are ya hollin
Entourage of benz, 'lacs, and beamers
With dime bitches with asses fat as Trina’s
Whoa I got my 4 tuck
Me I’m out for more bucks
'03 I’m pullin up the Lam with the doors up
And watch these whores fuck and suck like crazy
Can’t fuck wit cash money, we niggas is crazy (BIOTCH)
See I flip the color daddy, change my paint
Switch my rims, my mats is mink
Pull out the console, I drank to thank
Got the alligator seats on a full tank
But Ay-ay, 25 28s
Big money, heavy weight
Vet navigation system ???
Wooo, them special made tires
To fit my ride, I put a dove in the inside
Stunna mutha fucka
(Rim trucks!!)
Sittin on them mutha fuckin gittas
B.B. King, blues daddy
Know what I mean? (know what I mean?) know what I mean?
Got big truck drivers
Hoes don’t mind us
(Oh you think it’s a game, ma?)
Bitch stand behind us
It’s nothin but minks and it’s cold as fuck (brrrrrrrrrr)
Bitch hop in this truck!
There go lil TQ
And he comin in the cutlass, gettin his hair blew
Not givin a fuck about nothin that you hoes do
Don’t underestimate my pimpin cuz it’s serious fool
I’m on hunnit spokes
I gots fo' hoes
I got some Joe I got some drink, I got some dominoes
If ya thank the shit is stankin, bring some drama ho
That’s on momma though
We got big gats, gems and trucks, on stunna rims baby
#1 Stunna, that’s my dumma, Mannie Freezy, that’s my dawg
Big Tymers, we big ball
(TQ, Mik, and Gilly!!)
Got em takin it off
Woooo, let the bottles pop!
(Bitchesssssss) Let the panties drop (makes bottle-pop sound)
Oops, bout to shake the spot
Cuz we don' fucked around and don' got too hot