#CruiseLife

Ride two miles per hour so everybody—

Get a glimpse of the real nigga who inside it

With my cousin G5 we highed up cloudy

Bitches getting stoned just from standing around us

Music turnt up, but the smoke way louder

Must be amateur night, these motherfucking kids

Think they fucking with us, they fucking stupid

They talking shit 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 shit

Stay in the flyest stitches, not even tryin bitches

You lying nigga, 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 nigga, 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 bitches decide, appreciating my high

(You never know homie, could meet some hoes, homie)