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sbn3 - cars threestyle lyrics

run it like davidson up on the harley. livin’ la vida but loco it’s hardly
t on the c to a g, never card me, go with the flow no we watchin the cars 3
glock in the ‘rari, she shot me like arri, i’mma go sit and now hope they are sorry
playboi or b, can’t remember 2 cardis, chef boyardee brought the sauce to the party
diabetic you read it, get pairs of the medics they see you pathetic
like now, never indebted, my money repet-tive like the chick-fil-a cow
“eat mor” got no e, recoup it slowly, buffer than broly
buffer than buffet you find at the shoney’s, so buff a cup of some polish won’t mold me
“rozay don’t play” tia told me, ay caramba, this jam like la bamba
caron ain’t a butler get hotter than saunas, my god, amana
dryer than hamana-hamana comma, me in a desert with mr. osama
rest with a piece now you slingin’ with allah, best with a piece you were bangin’ for allah
cope with the cold, keep it in the cabana, that design on ivanka
lookin’ to truck and i never mean tonka, rhyme outta luck so i’m switchin’ the scheme
i never read the words on the screen, f-ckin’ with me and you f-ck with the team
a radical catapult cappin’ sabbaticals, i got the capital, know what i mean?

colder than a whippit when he use it
colder than an icee with that blue sh-t
teamin’ like mcqueen, he gonna zoom b-tch
f-ck a hollow, his bullets got two tips
colder than a whippit when he use it
colder than an icee with that blue sh-t
teamin’ like mcqueen, he gonna zoom b-tch
f-ck a hollow, his bullets got two tips

doing the flow of it top of the floor of it i gotta know
how many can you write up a rhyme that is soundin’ divine but it’s really for show?
cuffin’ a ho, cuff on my coat, the f-ck does that mean? well i really don’t know
they call it intelligent, tellin’ their friends of it, “flow is so venomous” sick with the faux
sick in the nose, stick to you clothes, new day for the quill, now i’m sick of this flow
got 2 rhymes but he ain’t got 4, got 4 rhymes but he ain’t got lines
got punch lines but he got no story, got that story but it got no theme
seems you better read the fast flow b-st-rds sayin’ they’re clean
he rhymes automatic with vatican happenin’, “what could it mean?”
not a god d-mn thing is what it f-ckin’ means
read a magazine, read your vaseline, read the back of jeans
they eventually rhyme if you give enough time but you ain’t shoutin’ “bars” to the back or your lees
or maybe you do, i don’t judge, lighting mcqueen hold a grudge
he pulled up on some fool, tough and he brought the thunder
on the run, build a hide-out, help him out he need some lumber
caught a body, count his prison time with receiver numbers

- sbn3 lyrics

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