U-God - Rims Pokin' Out lyrics

rate me

Good God, ugh!

I got air suspension, hydraulics, in the cockpit

Thumpin' heavy watters, my stereo's bionic

Soul sonic force, wood grain, dual exhaust pipes

Fuel is lost, when thrown in overdrive

A hundred horsepowers and the hood motorized

The super charger take you on a roller coaster ride

Don't worry if you slide, I got four wheel drive

When I glide down Interstate 95

Heard additional miles heading for the high

With my halogen lights, with my buggy eye

Bring truck, serious guy rims, supersized

When I pull up to your side that's, when you realize

That I'm live on your set, pedestrians sweat

Cause they catch whiplash when they turn they neck

With a multi disc changer, plus casette

This is for them low riders that burn the strip

Driving down the strip, I'm smoking out

Roof ripped, deep dish, rims pokin' out

(Ride higher, good God)

Never ever ever ever gonna stop

As the chrome blades chop and I'm rollin' out

(Ride higher, good God)

I got burners in the stashbox, Gucci ragtop

It's a brand new boy, toy, not a Matchbox

Jealous hoes try to key it up, with scratch marks

That's the price you pay, when you park after dark

Narc's try to search her, cause she wax the Impala

Road kill on my crash bar, just demolished

It takes hard earned dollars, to keep us served

TV's in the head rest, serve your purpose

My Xbox control, by the steering wheel color

Fancy fur rug match with the W's on 'em

Peel out in the large OVM Pirelli

Drive on the sour, make ya spine turn jelly

Blueberry in my hand, blow out the sunroof

Dodging potholes, trying to not dent the Coupe

Airvent cool me off, when you hot pursuit

Them little press on hubcaps are not the truth

If you love fast cars, come ride with me

Come roll with me, come ride with me

If you love big trucks, come roll with me

Come ride with me, come roll with me

Now what can you tell me, if my Fendi glasses

Throw up my nose, at the low E classes

No smoke in my backseat, I don't need ashes

Behold the masses, scoping me out

Now driving down the strip, I'm smoking out

Not a Blood or a Crip, but I'm loc'ing out

With fast cars on the fast lane, on a fast route

Interior flushed out, you know what I'm about

Driving down the strip...