Paul Wall - Cadillac lyrics

Fell in love with a Cadillac - 2X Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat [Hook - 2X] Broke up with my foreign car, and fell in love with a Cadillac - 3X Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat [Trae] I woke up, thinking foreign car But the Cadillac, got a n***a sitting in a daze 24's hittin switches, sitting sideways Trae flipping through the hood, like I'm running through a maze Find me trunk up, with the top back One deep in the front, two freaks in the back Haters mad at me, cause I'm MVP stats Better give me fifty feet, cause I'm good with the gat Good with the track, like I'm good with the hands 15's banging, like I'm battle of the bands New Benz like send, they run up out of grand And the trunk read Trae, so they know that I'm the man Me Paul Wall, in a slab out of Texas In a Cadillac, had to get rid of the Lexus Rather be gangsta, tipping on something With something in the clip, that'll get rid of the plexing [Boss] I fell in love, with my Coupe DeVille It's on a switch, it's the truth for real Scraping the back down, these Southwest streets Got a few teeth in the grill, loose for real Big pumps, two to the front one to the back One wheel in the air, gliding like that Three O-7, rebuilt without chrome Hundred spoke Daytons, with the two prones Next week, I'm in some'ing from the Lowrider book I'mma show these motherf**ers, how a lowrider look Hit a switch on Boss, will get your lowrider took In '98, I use to be the lowrider crook Fleetwoods, El-Dogs Sedan DeVilles When I ride, always equipped with handy steel co*ked up on three, and got em standing still I'm in the attick, wondering when I'm gon land and chill [Hook - 2X] [Juicy J] I'm never staying focused, always smoking Presidential kushing, always choking n***a I drank up, all your purple If I find out, that sh** be potent Mayn I get high, f** that sh** Your baby mama out here, s**ing my dick I'mma make her pay me, that child support I'm a pimp out here, trying to make it rich If you really wanna get high, let me know I'll tell C.B., let you hit that blow We can ride in the Cadillac, way in the f**ing back Hitting all the spots, just hogging that ho Then take a lot of freaks, to the Hotel room System on blast, you can hear that boom Mayn I'mma pop bout, two three X And drop my drawas, and take this chewing [DJ Paul] See in that M-Town, we snort that blow Turn around mayn, and whip our hoes Take me big gulp, full of that drank Now I'm high, don't know what to think First I had em beating fast, now I got em knocking slow Sniff a lil' mo' of this sip a lil' mo' of that, even down the middle whoa Closed up my foreign do's, opened up my American do's '72 Sedan DeVille, 84's and 20 inch vogues Chandillere, hanging from the top Fish tank, lit up in the gla** box But I had to put, the toy fish in it Cause the real ones died, from the kick box b**h [Hook - 2X] [Jay'Ton] Jay'Ton, pull up in a Lac co*ked up 22 inch chrome, bags popped up Diamonds in our mouth, cash stocked up Ice game six, so the game locked up 9-4 Fleetwood, headlights on Fifth let back, but the trunk moved on Flying through the hood, with the six 12's on Seal in the groove, super kush to the dome 19 in the game, only love for my Lac Never loving a dame, swang to the left When I'm hulling the frame, trying to take mine You'll be hugging a stain, like I'm hugging the lane Screw tape still on, drank in my cup Everytime, that I roam Roach a** hoes, still calling my phone Representing for the South, H-Town is my home [Trae] I'm a 24 inch black, Fleetwood glider Tipping the block, they love the way the drop sit wider Lord knows haters mad, when the left fly by ya Call it what you want, but the Lac stay way liver Boppers all on my dick, with the trunk up Beating up the Boulevard, with the beat pumped up Hit a switch on the remote, the front jump up Run up on the slab, roam that'll get you lumped up Hopping out looking like do's, got threw on backwards Throwed wardrobe, by my bed son of a ba*tard When it come to Cadillacs, Trae got that mastered And the game that I got, way flyer than NASA Me and Three 6, representing for the drank sippers Iced out grills, and the wood grain grippers 84 swangs, and the late night tippers Riding for the hood, Cadillac tight whippers [Paul Wall] I got that candy red, with extra gloss Heads turn, when they see me floss Scooped up Trae, on a sunny day Holla at Jay'Ton, and my boy Lil' Boss Trunk to stay popping, and hoes stay bopping Cause the swangas poking, and the blades stay chopping Beat the case, but the FEDs still watching In the Fed-Ex truck, right down the street plotting Dropped the top, if the sun on shine Sipping on some potent, puffing on pine Slow Loud And Bangin', in a candy slab line Down here in H-Town, it go down Old school Chevies, and throwback Lacs Swangas and vogues, with a trunk that crack This how it goes, down here in the 3rd Coast Houston Texas, at the bottom of the map baby [Hook - 2X]