Yea, it's that knock right here
You fuck around not have the right speakers in your system
Your shit be soundin' like this

Big thangs, thick chains, ain't shit changed
Get brain in the four-dot-six Range
Shit mayn, switch lanes
Every town I hit you switch lames, bitch flip big 'caine

I giving 'em whiplash when I'm whippin' the whip fast
Which one? Pick one nigga, I got a six stashed
Continental T's, no tense like I got a thick stab
Big cigar, old money, when I drop it it's so funny
Six-four switches, slam doors on 6's
Big trucks when I wanna fuck and it's time to get ass
I turn automobiles to hotels on wheels
I got money for a room it's just the fact that I'm trill
Bitches love when I cruise up the boulevard
They have contests to guess which car I'ma pull out the yard
They know I, come for dolo and pull off with a broad
Spin away, spend a day tryin' to pull menage
Just mackin' this gorgeous sunlight hit the ice it's flawless
Run lights like I'm the king of New York, I'm lawless
Bitches, they wanna hang like plaques in the office
Cause I push black Porsches, Benz's and Jaguars-es
When the rag's off it, gat on my lap, I'm that cautious
Never trust grimy-ass New Yorkers
'Specially when you're sittin' on 20's they get nauseous
Standin' in the Azure with white Air Forces

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on them thangs
Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at)
So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back)
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

You can catch Mac in the parkin' lot, pimpin' crazy
S-5, Navy 'Cedes, sittin' on 80
That's four dubs, not S-4 dub
Stash box, push Hot Wheel like Matchbox
Bitches wanna push my world, they flash box
160, push my wheel, mash cops
Cause 160 took my wheel to cash drop
Run 60, you Big Will, match cop
Lookin' through the rearview and Mac was wylin'
New driver, screwdriver, the cracked steering column
Pushin' somethin' stolen, blastin', picture me rollin'
Baghdad, couldn't picture me rollin'
Now the truth different, Mac come through Coupe roof missin'
I'm the truth til my fuckin' roof missin'
Mac stay stuck in the Coupe to school pigeons
Feathers gettin' plucked in the truck from loose chickens, listen

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on them thangs'
Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at)
So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back)
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

Yo, aiyyo I dip dip dive, what can I say?
I can't fit 'em all inside the Escalade
So I called up, murder to further my parkin' lot pimpin'
Told 'em get the Impala so I can start dippin'
Lay back, seat recline, they notice the hand
Car movin' slow, driven by the invisible man
Everything on the dash, digital and
I got a fast stashbox don't make me spit at you man
In the parkin' lot, where I spark a lot
I come to show my new feet, slide off with a few freaks
Bleek, turn up the beats
Turn up the heat then we burn up the streets, bitch!

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on them thangs
Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at)
So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back)
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on them thangs
Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at)
So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back)
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Cynthia Loving, Dwight Grant, Malik Cox, Malik Deshawn Cox, Ricardo Thomas, Shawn Carter