Chorus: Johnny P
Do you wanna riiide?
In the backseat, of a Caddy
Chop it up, with Do or Die
Do you wanna riiide?
In the backseat, of a Caddy
Chop it up, with Do or Die
Verse One: Belo
Seven double oh P.M.
Fly low to them hoes in the B-M
Sippin Seagram, chewin on a weed stem
Touchin on my fo' fin
Move it to the back so I can see who beepin this Po Pimp
Spring to the phone with a slow limp
In a trip that shitted with 3-1-2-7-6-2-10
Three line connection
As the rest of them wanted affection
Just bring the weed, we got the drinks you need
And plus we strapped with two protections
I put the phone in the hook, then I pause for a minute
Cause I forgot where I met the hoe
And the feeling I've forgotten if the hoes wanna snap
I straight up check the hoe, really doe
To the crib
Chorus
Verse Two: AK-47, Belo
Seven deuce five, the ride the point to spot the live hoes
Three miles per hour
Like we runnin up on some ri-vals
Never to deny though, these bitches look fly 'Lo
Introduce myself
A to the motherfuckin K finna recognize
Then I loose myself juice myself
As you take one pull, uhh, pass it to the left and umm
Self-centered niggaz'll take two pulls
cuz they thinkin about samplin umm
P-I, M-P, ology, but logically
We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well...
Mmm, ain't this some shit, pull up in the C-A
D-I, Double-L, with ah A-C, A-C hoes
They peep those, P-I, M-P, and they think that automatically
Cause he's a pimp, he gotta be, full of that
M-O, N-E, but why?
Cause nigga be sportin nice cars and fancy clothes
Fresh jewels Girbaud flexin one five oh (chop chop)
Chop up that paper hoe, chop up t
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