Lirik Lagu Cadillac - Trae
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(feat. Three 6 Mafia, Jay'Ton, Boss, Paul Wall)
Fell in love with a Cadillac [x2]Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
[Hook x2]Broke up with my foreign car, and fell in love with a Cadillac [x3]Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
[Trae:]I woke up, thinking foreign carBut the Cadillac, got a nigga sitting in a daze24's and a swiss, sitting sidewaysTrae flipping through the hood, like I'm running through a mazeFind me trunk up, with the top backOne deep in the front, two freaks in the backHaters mad at me, cause I'm MVP statsBetter give me fifty feet, cause I'm good with the gatGood with the track, like I'm good with the hands15's banging, like I'm battle of the bandsNew Benz like send, they run up out of grandAnd the trunk read Trae, so they know that I'm the manMe Paul Wall, in a slab out of TexasIn a Cadillac, had to get rid of the LexusRather be gangsta, tipping on somethingWith something in the clip, that'll get rid of the plexing
[Boss:]I fell in love, with my Coupe DeVilleIt's on a switch, it's the truth for realScraping the back down, these Southwest streetsGot a few teeth in the grill, loose for realBig pumps, two to the front one to the backOne wheel in the air, gliding like thatThree O-7, rebuilt without chromeHundred spoke Daytons, with the two pronesNext week, I'm in some'ing from the Lowrider bookI'ma show these motherfuckers, how a lowrider lookHit a switch on Boss, will get your lowrider tookIn '98, I use to be the lowrider crookFleetwoods, El-Dogs Sedan DeVillesWhen I ride, always equipped with handy steelCocked up on three, and got em standing stillI'm in the attick, wondering when I'm gon land and chill
[Hook x2]
[Juicy J:]I'm never staying focused, always smokingPresidential kushing, always chokingNigga I drank up, all your purpleIf I find out, that shit be potentMayn I get high, fuck that shitYour baby mama out here, sucking my dickI'ma make her pay me, that child supportI'm a pimp out here, trying to make it richIf you really wanna get high, let me knowI'll tell C.B., let you hit that blowWe can ride in the Cadillac, way in the fucking backHitting all the spots, just hogging that hoeThen take a lot of freaks, to the Hotel roomSystem on blast, you can hear that boomMayn I'ma pop bout, two three XAnd drop my drawas, and take this chewing
[DJ Paul:]See in that M-Town, we snort that blowTurn around mayn, and whip our hoesTake me big gulp, full of that drankNow I'm high, don't know what to thinkFirst I had em beating fast, now I got em knocking slowSniff a lil' mo' of this sip a lil' mo' of that, even down the middle whoaClosed up my foreign do's, opened up my American do's'72 Sedan DeVille, 84's and 20 inch voguesChandillere, hanging from the topFish tank, lit up in the glass boxBut I had to put, the toy fish in itCause the real ones died, from the kick box bitch
[Hook x2]
[Jay'Ton:]Jay'Ton, pull up in a Lac cocked up22 inch chrome, bags popped upDiamonds in our mouth, cash stocked upIce game six, so the game locked up9-4 Fleetwood, headlights onFifth let back, but the trunk moved onFlying through the hood, with the six 12's onSeal in the groove, super kush to the dome19 in the game, only love for my LacNever loving a dame, swang to the leftWhen I'm hulling the frame, trying to take mineYou'll be hugging a stain, like I'm hugging the laneScrew tape still on, drank in my cupEverytime, that I roamRoach ass hoes, still calling my phoneRepresenting for the South, H-Town is my home
[Trae:]I'm a 24 inch black, Fleetwood gliderTipping the block, they love the way the drop sit widerLord knows haters mad, when the left fly by yaCall it what you want, but the Lac stay way liverBoppers all on my dick, with the trunk upBeating up the Boulevard, with the beat pumped upHit a switch on the remote, the front jump upRun up on the slab, roam that'll get you lumped upHopping out looking like do's, got threw on backwardsThrowed wardrobe, by my bed son of a bastardWhen it come to Cadillacs, Trae got that masteredAnd the game that I got, way flyer than NASAMe and Three 6, representing for the drank sippersIced out grills, and the wood grain grippers84 swangs, and the late night tippersRiding for the hood, Cadillac tight whippers
[Paul Wall:]I got that candy red, with extra glossHeads turn, when they see me flossScooped up Trae, on a sunny dayHolla at Jay'Ton, and my boy Lil' BossTrying to stay popping, and hoes stay boppingCause the swangas poking, and the blades stay choppingBeat the case, but the FEDs still watchingIn the Fed-Ex truck, right down the street plottingDropped the top, if the sun on shineSipping on some potent, puffing on pineSlow Loud And Bangin', in a candy slab lineDown here in H-Town, it go downOld school Cheves, and throwback LacsSwangas and vogues, with a trunk that crackThis how it goes, down here in the 3rd CoastHouston Texas, at the bottom of the map baby
[Hook x2]
Fell in love with a Cadillac [x2]Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
[Hook x2]Broke up with my foreign car, and fell in love with a Cadillac [x3]Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
[Trae:]I woke up, thinking foreign carBut the Cadillac, got a nigga sitting in a daze24's and a swiss, sitting sidewaysTrae flipping through the hood, like I'm running through a mazeFind me trunk up, with the top backOne deep in the front, two freaks in the backHaters mad at me, cause I'm MVP statsBetter give me fifty feet, cause I'm good with the gatGood with the track, like I'm good with the hands15's banging, like I'm battle of the bandsNew Benz like send, they run up out of grandAnd the trunk read Trae, so they know that I'm the manMe Paul Wall, in a slab out of TexasIn a Cadillac, had to get rid of the LexusRather be gangsta, tipping on somethingWith something in the clip, that'll get rid of the plexing
[Boss:]I fell in love, with my Coupe DeVilleIt's on a switch, it's the truth for realScraping the back down, these Southwest streetsGot a few teeth in the grill, loose for realBig pumps, two to the front one to the backOne wheel in the air, gliding like thatThree O-7, rebuilt without chromeHundred spoke Daytons, with the two pronesNext week, I'm in some'ing from the Lowrider bookI'ma show these motherfuckers, how a lowrider lookHit a switch on Boss, will get your lowrider tookIn '98, I use to be the lowrider crookFleetwoods, El-Dogs Sedan DeVillesWhen I ride, always equipped with handy steelCocked up on three, and got em standing stillI'm in the attick, wondering when I'm gon land and chill
[Hook x2]
[Juicy J:]I'm never staying focused, always smokingPresidential kushing, always chokingNigga I drank up, all your purpleIf I find out, that shit be potentMayn I get high, fuck that shitYour baby mama out here, sucking my dickI'ma make her pay me, that child supportI'm a pimp out here, trying to make it richIf you really wanna get high, let me knowI'll tell C.B., let you hit that blowWe can ride in the Cadillac, way in the fucking backHitting all the spots, just hogging that hoeThen take a lot of freaks, to the Hotel roomSystem on blast, you can hear that boomMayn I'ma pop bout, two three XAnd drop my drawas, and take this chewing
[DJ Paul:]See in that M-Town, we snort that blowTurn around mayn, and whip our hoesTake me big gulp, full of that drankNow I'm high, don't know what to thinkFirst I had em beating fast, now I got em knocking slowSniff a lil' mo' of this sip a lil' mo' of that, even down the middle whoaClosed up my foreign do's, opened up my American do's'72 Sedan DeVille, 84's and 20 inch voguesChandillere, hanging from the topFish tank, lit up in the glass boxBut I had to put, the toy fish in itCause the real ones died, from the kick box bitch
[Hook x2]
[Jay'Ton:]Jay'Ton, pull up in a Lac cocked up22 inch chrome, bags popped upDiamonds in our mouth, cash stocked upIce game six, so the game locked up9-4 Fleetwood, headlights onFifth let back, but the trunk moved onFlying through the hood, with the six 12's onSeal in the groove, super kush to the dome19 in the game, only love for my LacNever loving a dame, swang to the leftWhen I'm hulling the frame, trying to take mineYou'll be hugging a stain, like I'm hugging the laneScrew tape still on, drank in my cupEverytime, that I roamRoach ass hoes, still calling my phoneRepresenting for the South, H-Town is my home
[Trae:]I'm a 24 inch black, Fleetwood gliderTipping the block, they love the way the drop sit widerLord knows haters mad, when the left fly by yaCall it what you want, but the Lac stay way liverBoppers all on my dick, with the trunk upBeating up the Boulevard, with the beat pumped upHit a switch on the remote, the front jump upRun up on the slab, roam that'll get you lumped upHopping out looking like do's, got threw on backwardsThrowed wardrobe, by my bed son of a bastardWhen it come to Cadillacs, Trae got that masteredAnd the game that I got, way flyer than NASAMe and Three 6, representing for the drank sippersIced out grills, and the wood grain grippers84 swangs, and the late night tippersRiding for the hood, Cadillac tight whippers
[Paul Wall:]I got that candy red, with extra glossHeads turn, when they see me flossScooped up Trae, on a sunny dayHolla at Jay'Ton, and my boy Lil' BossTrying to stay popping, and hoes stay boppingCause the swangas poking, and the blades stay choppingBeat the case, but the FEDs still watchingIn the Fed-Ex truck, right down the street plottingDropped the top, if the sun on shineSipping on some potent, puffing on pineSlow Loud And Bangin', in a candy slab lineDown here in H-Town, it go downOld school Cheves, and throwback LacsSwangas and vogues, with a trunk that crackThis how it goes, down here in the 3rd CoastHouston Texas, at the bottom of the map baby
[Hook x2]
