Clipse - Daytona 500 lyrics

[Intro: Sandman] One two, y’all One two, y’all One two, y’all Yeah, Cannooon (Dig it) [Verse One: Sandman] Am I ever so ready? Flow heavy, gon’ break the Richter scale We up, Re-Up, got that in, raw and thin Underground, bin by bin and in tin by tin [Verse Two: Pusha T] Turned will into drive to win, into the wheel That the driver’s in, speed cracker, pink neck Like lobster skin, open the door The R-E-U-P emerges, the royal four [Verse Three: Ab-Liva] Crown prince, head wizard to the oils of ore [?] Became accustomed to the spoils of war Blue light special, cop for the low-low Customary top is a no-no, Medina hot-stepping on Manolos [Verse Four: Malice] If you ain’t got mojo with oatmeal interior The rarest of diamonds, mined in Nigeria The fairest of them all, you can ask the mirror Driver’s side of that GT, it couldn’t be clearer [Verse Five: Sandman] Haters, don’t hear ‘em, cross me, won’t spare ‘em Shots tear ‘em apart, the pallbearer Wakes, et cetera, cape, irregular, fate Competitors face berettas, tryna stay ahead of us [Verse Six: Pusha T] Platinum bezel and band, man, that’s just the regulars Just another reason to make them hoes treasure us Admiring the splendor, scared ‘cause she remember How a dope dealer had ruined the life of Kemba [Verse Seven: Ab-Liva] I was on with a blender and I was gone ’til November And I was torn but I render, ’cause I was lured by the tender The money, the cars, the fame, the b**hes, the name The glistening chain, the wrist blitzing the game, I’m frostbit [Verse Eight: Malice] Like it ain’t cost sh**, you see what’s on the wrist Put it to your ear, n***a, you don’t hear it tick All you hear is *click* f**ing with the clique Like the Louie chess board, re-up is the court sh** [Verse Nine: Sandman] Man, f** that horsesh**, the hardships, I been through ‘em Brazilians and Benzes, I spend through ‘em Chameleon, I blend in as hog sh** Black Card sh**, p**y, that’s that bomb sh** [Verse Ten: Pusha T] Pour Cris down her throat ’til the who*e sick Yellow rappers hit the floor, give ‘em jaundice The fondest flows, an arm that glows Four n***as in a row, ’86, pompous pose [Verse Eleven: Ab-Liva] Street-smart savvy, no conscious flows I sell sh**, n***a, to taunt your nose, the man, the music The making, the king, the crown, the heir My spot is sewed, take my place, n***a, ‘pon the throne [Verse Twelve: Malice] The game has grown, the charters have flown South Beach Miami, where we toast Patron The home with the statue, etched marble stone Ship kis to the states via Boca Raton