My Chrome

You don't have to go home One time, one time One time, one time Easy, that cook shit got me sleepy Rollin' down 85, leaning but I ain't weaving Man, you should stay a day in the A A parade of them Chevelots, colors of flavor aid Can you, believe I got it made Impala in the garage, got forces and all the J's I'm leaning bad, ride shotgun in the Chevy With the homeboy burning sacs We heading to the spot where we get down, nigga Where the bitches at, they talking right, acting right Walking right, now to take flight, they ain't gotta go home They can stay the night You don't have to go home You can stay right here, put one in the air While we are in the, corners of my chrome Same shit another year, in the southern hemisphere, wait a while Nigga hold up, hold up Make sure they see you when you roll up Hop out that truck all ready fucked up Tore up from the motherfucking floor up From the floor up, to the ceiling Smoke kiss in the walls in the top of the building Little momma's on, sitting next to me She's catching a feeling and I'm feeling, like I'm 'pose to I'm as fly as a Jordon poster, I'm leaning in A mix of hydroponic by the the time My click find me in VIP I'm lost in a cloud of chronic had sex With the best, got head from the rest, motherfucker believe I done it You don't have to go home You can stay right here, put one in the air While we are in the, corners of my chrome Same shit another year, in the southern hemisphere, wait a while Hot tub tony sucka free and still bublin' Truck still rattling and bumping now move something Hold up Big Boi, I'm still weed crumpling Sac keeps shaking and block keep jumping Lay back, lay back, treat this eight six cut like a Maybac Hey, show these suckas that after 50 million sold Daddy fat sacs is still where the hood at, hood at Hood rats and decoy b-boys understood that Wheater its creme de la creme, where the good at I got it in that 1.5, I had to put the swisher down 'Cause my lungs got tired, now let's ride, let's ride Back down 85, five With the click in the truck Full of chick in the back of the 6 Nobody going home tonight It's time you go home Straighten up your hair, you don't need a mirror You can fix your makeup in my chrome Same shit another year, in the southern hemisphere Wait a while, before you go home Ahh! It feels like ecstasy The sound, whoa, feels like ecstasy Oooh, oohh feels like ecstasy (feels like ecstasy!) The groove, takes control of me You don't have to go home You can stay right here, put one in the air While we are in the, corners of my chrome Same shit another year, in the southern hemisphere, wait a while You don't have to go