#CruiseLife lyrics

Ride two miles per hour so everybody—
Get a glimpse of the real n*gga who inside it
With my cousin G5 we highed up cloudy
b*tches getting stoned just from standing around us
Music turnt up, but the smoke way louder
Must be amateur night, these motherf*cking kids
Think they f*cking with us, they f*cking stupid
They talking sh*t just to hear themselves, but I ain't worrying about 'em
I got a life time subscription of that Car and Driver
California prescription, pounds of exotic
Riding to that old Hypnotize Mind sh*t
Stay in the flyest stitches, not even tryin b*tches
You lying n*gga, smoking that middle class grass, you ain't really high is ya
I would a put you down, if you wasn't such a clown
But I figured I share it with my team, cause I came in here with 'em
Grab a plate, Thanksgiving
Word to Corner Boy P, I'm lane switchin', Chevy heavy
So is my chain n*gga, Spitta Andretti on a paper mission
Indy 500 driven, addicted to this winning
This the victory lap in front the club, you wanna get in
I ain't even attending, just maintaining my engine
See I got too many cars
And it be three months before I got a chance to get in 'em
Take 'em out for a ride, make sure they doin' fine
Mo' money, mo problems, these problems I don't mind
Standing outside trying pick which one I'mma drive
Let my b*tches decide, appreciating my high
(You never know homie, could meet some hoes, homie)