Luyện nghe bài hát My Ride

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

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

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

grills on the Cadillac, we so real
Skinny Deville, return a bat out of Hell
Hell, don't ya Nappy Roots comin' as well
Big V, B. Stille, Prophet, an' Fish Scales, yeah

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

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

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

hot, no air for the car jam
Twenty ride both on probes
Look nice on pipes
Keep Chevy that twinkle so bright

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

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

Hop in with me, we to leave
You pop it, I drope a dollar in ya pocket
Gas up the crotch, rocket pass up, the cops it
Hey B. Stille, can I role with you an'

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

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

Feel from the beats in my big speakers
It's on in my an' my signature
throw dirt on my name, no shirt 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
grain interior leather an' chrome
Everybody ride out, on, it's on