Cadillac

Fell in love with a
Cadillac [x2]
Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat [Hook x2]
Broke up with my foreign car, and fell in love with a
Cadillac [x3]
Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat [Trae:]
I woke up, thinking foreign car
But the Cadillac, got a nigga sitting in a daze 24s and a swiss, sitting sideways
Trae flipping through the hood, like
Im 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
Im MVP stats
Better give me fifty feet, cause
Im good with the gat
Good with the track, like
Im good with the hands 15s banging, like
Im battle of the bands
New Benz like send, they run up out of grand
And the trunk read
Trae, so they know that
Im 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, thatll get rid of the plexing [Boss:]
I fell in love, with my
Coupe DeVille
Its on a switch, its 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,
Im in someing from the
Lowrider book
Ima show these motherfuckers, how a lowrider look
Hit aswitch 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
Cocked up on three, and got em standing still
Im in the attick, wondering when
Im gon land and chill [Hook x2] [Juicy J:]
Im never staying focused , always smoking
Presidential kushing, always choking
Nigga I drank up, all your purple
If I find out, that shit be potent
Mayn I get high, fuck that shit
Your baby mama out here, sucking my dick
Ima make her pay me, that child support
Im a pimp out here, trying to make it rich
If you really wanna get high, let me know
Ill tell
C.B., let you hit that blow
We can ride in the
Cadillac, way in the fucking back
Hitting all the spots, just hogging that hoe
Then take a lot of freaks , to the
Hotel room
System on blast, you can hear that boom
Mayn Ima 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 Im high, dont 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 dos, opened up my
American dos 72
Sedan DeVille, 84s and 20 inch vogues
Chandillere, hanging from the top
Fish tank, lit up in the glass box
But I had to put, the toy fish in it
Cause the real ones died, from the kick box bitch [Hook x2] [JayTon:]
JayTon, pull up in a
Lac cocked 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 12s 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 Im hulling the frame, trying to take mine
Youll be hugging a stain, like
Im hugging the lane
Screw tape still on, drank in my cup
Everytime, that
I roam Roach ass hoes, still calling my phone
Representing for the
South, H-Town is my home [Trae:]
Im 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 thatll get you lumped up
Hopping out looking like dos, got threw on backwards
Throwed wardrobe, by my bed son of a bastard
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 dranksippers
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
Trying 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
Cheves, 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 x2]