Lyrics
She grew up in that rat race a slave to that phat bass
She liked to feel it move her cheek bones
She don’t feel alive ‘less she driving illegal
One eye on the mascara, one on the people
These days everybody seem evil
She drive slow down that road with the detour
Rubber to the road and the road to the frame
Frame to the chain, chain as it hang in the balance
Balance is the rough part
She got enough scars to skip part two, head past that bar stool
Man she would argue for days
But never said a word when they turned up that bass
Can you turn up that bass
Can you burn up that place
I’ve been going for days
Are you sure that I’m safe
I’ve been nervous I may catch a case but
I’ma let that bass bump
I’ma let that bass bump
Been in a bit of a bind, hands tied
Consider a bit of the rhythm, can’t I
Fit it up into the spot where she need it
Driving like a mad man, ninety on the freeway
Swerving out of each lane
Red lights glaring of the glass like it’s D Day
Like another smoke and
Think of them free days, sink in that deep change
Hands grip the wheel tight, this is what it feel like
Like wait, this shit is real life?
Sinking up into the plot, foot up onto the box
Pedal to the medal, Gepetto developed a level of devil
In that meadow that she swam thru
Ran thru that roadblock, turned the bass up as she killed that cop
© 2015 Ill Company Music