Luyện nghe bài hát My Ride

Yo, feelin' like it's Sunday mornin', steak an' eggs
Hey, livin' off some big rims, lookin' some blades
Play her like a typa nigga, ain't me
With the 35 percent so ya can't see

Fish scales shotgun, the L to big V
Flop candy, lookin' so wet it drip drop
From the tip top, double duce
a bitch stop, jaw drop ballin' off this hip hop

On a budget back an' from Kentucky
We them type of niggas that corn in a bucket
A hundred an' ninety spoke,
Look but don't touch it ,we down I-65, Nappy an' company

Vertical grills on the Cadillac, we so
Skinny Deville, like a bat out of Hell
Hell, don't ya think Nappy comin' as well
Big V, B. Stille, Prophet, Clutch an' Fish Scales,

My be sittin' on the hundred spokes
My candy paint from the honeycomb
Wood interior leather an' chrome
Everybody ride out, it's on, on

Hey, yo, that's my cab, out leavin' a tab
on man, we'll discuss that later
B. out like, "Fuck that hater"
in the Aspen, rotten like Martin

Two white dudes, one looked like Harprin
Later on he's eatin' an' ball in
An' I out like, "Fuck your season"
Van Dam woke up in the am

hot, no air for the car jam
Twenty inches ride on probes
Look nice Chevrolet on
Keep Chevy tint twinkle so bright

B.O.B, I'ma on budget
Pumped out two, thou on the '89 cutlass,
Nah, you can't ride, I'm
Ain't too ho's wanna touch this velvet

My be sittin' on the hundred spokes
My candy paint straight from the
Wood grain interior leather an'
ride out, it's on, it's on

Hop in with me, we 'bout to
You gotta pop it, I drope a in ya pocket
Gas up the crotch, pass up, the cops blocked it
Hey B. Stille, can I with you an' Prophet?

Extra clean you can't me nean
Drop the top, showin' off for the
'Cause the Cadillac stretch on dem bow stillets
Where the candy sets like a wet cigarette

Bubble coat primers, spiders inside us
Big for my team an' a couple of trainers
But it hold no minors, major
Wood grain an' ya get beater's big features

Feel boom from the beats in my big
on in my seats an' my signature
Don't throw dirt on my name, no as I lean
Out the pane, you hear the country boy sang

My be sittin' on the hundred spokes
My paint straight from the honeycomb
Wood grain leather an' chrome
Everybody out, it's on, it's on