Low Low

If it ain't a Chevy, don't raise it up

And, if it ain't the kush, don't blaze it up

I'm sticking to the script while niggas changing up

They beats sounding like the homie, now they fake as fuck

But look, I was in the fo' with my crew tryna cop me on the ten

Getting high, with my whole hood behind me

I had two zones on me, play it cool, there go Johnny

As soon as I could say it, I felt like they got behind me

So he tried to hit the exit but his brakes ain't working

Doing 50 on the red bout to brace the swerve

And, much to my surprise

We ain't even crashing, ain't nobody died

But, we burnt rubber from the side

Parked and hopped out like it ain't nobody side

Fuck it, GPS the body shop

This type of shit happen all the fucking time cause

All I do is bounce in my low low

Getting called this nigga out the solo

Got the burner in the low low

Damn nigga, there go po po

Pops used to have the low low

I was little in a low low

You know I got it for the low low

You know I get it for the low low

Let's get high, bitch, in my Damu ride

On my momma, I'm on one, hitting that side to side

Bitch, wrapped a flag round the pistol, the rag sit awkward

Hop out schwanging, sag show my boxers

Belt $12.50, Robins, no Dickie

Dice Gang, school 'em like Tee Cee

Boy, motherfuck a rumor, last week I died twice

But lose your mind and double cross me, hope you find Christ

Papa was a rolling stone in the low rider

Piru boy with more passes than a Globetrotter

'6-4, six chains, Impala

Bend the corner, three-wheeling, scrape the bottom

Front, back, pancake, fuck what a man say

Pull up on your hood, day, and park it on your landscape