The Collective lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, da-da-da da-da
As the joint burns, and the wheels turn, yeah
And I never that I would have one

[Verse 1]
Interstate hound, Forgiatto wheels
Cadillac grill, bumpin' my n*gga Big K.R.I.T
Coming down smelling like Bond No. 9, and a half a pound
That's what I do, I thought you knew, you've been informed
You been warned, it's up to you, whoever fit the shoe
Still a Chevy man through and through
But it's something about that El Dorado coupe and the way she moves
Baby blue, my latest boo, lowriders yea I got a few
But its just something different, you gotta sit in it
Custom machine I'm steering
Make every arrival a grand appearance
Smoking some fire right outside the building
Chopping the game up for the ghetto children
Cold chillin', flowing like a polo linen

[Interlude]
(Though you'll never see me in one)
And I never ever thought I'd get a Cadillac
Yeah, uh
[Verse 2]
Haven't driven the Rolls since some days
I been Cadillacin', bumpin that UGK
Smokin' gas in a real major way
On wheels the collective we been making plays
Legal trappin', made it rich from rappin', my life the sh*t
I had to just go and tell you how it happen over these beats
I know you hear them snares gettin' at you
Like the rat-a-tat of assault rifles from project battles
I'm sliding past ya in a blast from the past, like super fast
Interior beyond cold, I swear to god it's laid out like a condo
I'm a let that one set in bro

[Interlude 2]
And I never ever thought I'd get a Cadillac
But I'm highered up dippin' in the Cadillac
Smokin' one for my n*gga Big K.R.I.T. in the Cadillac

[Outro]
Eastside on the rise
Keep the E in it
n*gga, we smoking weed in it, laughing in our pictures
Wouldn't write about it, if a n*ggas didn't live it
Yeah, that's the difference
Y'all act like some b*tches
Yeah
[Truck Turner Samples]
Hey momma
What is it?
Blue, he's here
Well send him out here, you get back in the house
I can't even say hello?
Look, b*tch
Look, you getting into sh*t ankle dip
You gonna trip and fall and when you do, I'm not gonna hardly be there
That's your choice, n*gga
You coming or going?
Blue, all you son of a b*tches are crazy
You get the f*ck away from me you son of a b*tch
Well Blue, I presume you came to talk business
You don't see me with my c*ck in my hand, do you, Dorinda?
Who's he, you're test-tube?
He's looking in your house for tapes
sh*t n*gga, this ain't the White House
Well you better get it together, b*tch
Reno's dead, [Turls doin], so is Fontana
Snowman just left here with egg in his shoes
What's the matter, Blue, can't you cut the job?
I am the job