Rush Hour Traffic

We get long,

Let them trunks lift up

Ay, ay

We all know Mikey a.k.a. the Great Estaré, Banco Populair

Looking rare homie, what's the skit

So you could holla at me if you want me

If you don't keep it rollin' don't be

Droppin' names like a ton of bricks

I'm in the '96 SL5, but ain't nothin' on that bad boy

The button stick when I be unlockin' it

So I grabbed the cut less keys like a fuckin' thief

Take a sweet, gut it, stuff it then we puff it baby

The Baileys, mixed with Grandma ye'

See we callin' it the grandmama

See, just like the Larry Johnson kinds

In the huddle with the Bubble goose down

Downtime spent working on my rhyme schemes

Them alpines hit like a young rocky

A skinny dude but I'm eating like I'm stocky

Bucket seats 70's challengers for the amateurs

This is for them Regals, Granddaddy's cutlesses

Stuck-in-town vehicles

The speakers gon' love it

The trucks is all low like I talked about his mother

Drivin' around slow, like there's an accident or somethin'

Skur

Diggin' the dumps, cigar guts into anything

Piggy bank change couldn't break if the ground shake

Earthquake shake and San Andres fault

First-place trophy is the only to race in them

Talk to me dawg, please don't talk at me

I thought I saw the credits runnin' on with all that acting

Was happenin'

Surely, surly, rerun

See me with it now like they gotta get theirs tomorrow

Ferrari's? nah, phantoms? nope

Triple gold spokes on them Lincoln town cars

Like back when I was driving to the mall where that Circuit City was

Gotta get this installed

That flip face touch screen remote control and all that

Bass treble biz

And it smells like a loud pack

Strawberry air fresheners to mix with the scent

Shooting free throws for the win