Traction

We rollin' back to back
Different color Cadillacin'
Pray the Lord, they don't put me in the paddy wagon
If they do it be a long trip
Boss shit, Boldy hold the four fifth
Pull it, leave his body where the Pistons play
Rock a mask like Richard Hamilton
And hit the J
But in Queens they call me Mookie
Boobie put the tookie where she poopy
If you see me then salute me, bitch!

Cuzzy quick to burn up the turnpike
And skrrt on them dirtbikes
A lot of outta towners got murdered the first night
For try'na serve on the work site
Ten bricks and a bitch
Came jumped on the first bike
I'm talkin' perched white
Third base/3rd Bass, searchlight/Serchlite
Got caught with another gun on my third strike
I'm from Detroit so I call cot and run dice
And I was crowned King Concreature from birth right
Blocks

We take em over with little resistance
Vivid descriptions of urban living conditions
Fiend balet, back block recitals

Park the phantom on the block
Ghetto American Idol
On a whim and a prayer
I swear on a stack of bibles
For this shit right here
My dear handed me the title
To the Rivier, lit the glass pipe with the lighter

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop
I'm suited up in black attire, bitch

Time for some Time for some action
Pre-cocked, one in the hole
Blastin'
Them nines, double action
It's time for some action
Street life, lights camera action
Grind till you shine
On your brights from your hazards
Flash 'em, lights camera action
Time for some Time for some action
We got it all under control, traction

Fuck around throw some fox on my bitch
But still cop a sandwich from my ahks up the block
No socks, in some concept Balances
Split pea soup coupe dipped, no challengers
This is grown man rap, you in the kiddie pool
You still pissin' in that little urinal
We burn the tree with a tinge of purple
Flip work like a ninja turtle
You ain't fuckin' wit' my inner circle
Dreams of five girls laid up on the white bed
My off white dick stretched across some dyke's head
5'8", the city on my back
I'm jumpin' out the gym
And dunkin' it on Shaq

Plug with the connect
I hit him up on consignment
If you spineless then squirm with the rest
You can run and play hide and seek
Until I pop up with that ninety
Now that's what I call the return of the mac



Credits
Writer(s): Alan Maman, James Clay Iii Jones
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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