Tonart: F minor
Verse 1
C
Em
Fell in love with a Cadillac
Em
like
C
Em
a acrobat
C
Broke up with my foreign
Verse 2
Em
C
car
Em
C
Em
And fell in love
C
Em
C
Trunk turn flip, like a acrobat
Em
I woke
Verse 3
C
up, thinking foreign car
But the Cadillac
Em
Got a nigga sitting in a daze
24's hittin switches,
Trae flipping through the hood
Like I'm running through a maze
Em
Find me trunk up, with the top back
two freaks in the back
Em
Haters mad at me, cause
I'm MVP stats
C
Better give me fifty feet
Cause I'm good with the gat
C
Like I'm good with the hands
15's banging,
like I'm battle of the bands
Em
New Benz like send, they
And the trunk read Trae
So they know that I'm the man
Em
C
Me Paul Wall, in a slab out of Texas
Em
In a Cadillac, had to get rid of the Lexus
C
Rather be gangsta, tipping on something
With something in the clip
That'll get rid of the plexing
Verse 4
C
I fell in love, with my Coupe DeVille
It's on a switch,
it's the truth for real
Scraping the back down
These Southwest streets
Got a few teeth in the grill, loose for real
Big pumps,
two to the front one to the back
One wheel in the air, gliding like that
Three O- 7, rebuilt without chrome
Hundred spoke Daytons, with the
Next week
I'm in some'ing from the
C
Lowrider book
I'mma show these motherfuckers
How a lowrider look hit a
Will get your lowrider took
C
In '98, I use to be the lowrider crook
Em
Fleetwoods, El- Dogs Sedan DeVilles
always equipped with handy steel
and got em standing still
Em
Wondering when I'm gon land and chill
Interlude 1
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Em
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Verse 5
focused,
always smoking
C
Presidential kushing, always choking
Em
C
Nig ga I drank up, all your purple
If I find out, that shit be potent
Em
Mayn I get high, fuck that shit
here, sucking my dick
me, that child support
trying to make it rich
Em
If you really wanna get high, let me know
C
I'll tell CB, let you hit that blow
Em
We can ride in the Cadillac
Way in the fucking back
C
Hitting all the spots, just hogging that ho
Em
Then take a lot of freaks,
to the Hotel room
you can hear that boom
Em
Mayn I'mma pop bout, two three X
C
And drop my drawas, and
take this chewing
Verse 6
we snort that blow
C
Turn around mayn, and whip our hoes
Em
C
Take me big gulp, full of that drank
Now I'm high, don't know what to think
Em
First I had em beating fast
C
Now I got em knocking slow
Em
Sniff a lil' mo' of this sip
Em
Even down the middle whoa
Closed up my foreign do's
Em
do's
Em
84's and 20 inch vogues
C
Chandillere, hanging from the top
Fish tank, lit up in the glass box
Em
C
But I had to put, the toy fish in it
Cause the real ones died
Em
From the kick box bitch
Interlude 2
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Em
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Em
Verse 7
C
Jay'Ton, pull up in a Lac cocked up
22 inch chrome, bags popped up
Em
C
Diamonds in our mouth, cash stocked up
Ice game six,
Em
so the game locked up
C
9- 4 Fleetwood, headlights on
Fifth let back, but the trunk moved on
Em
Flying through the hood
With the six 12's on
C
Seal in the groove, super kush to the dome
Em
C
19 in the game, only love for my Lac
Never loving a dame, swang to the left
Em
When I'm hulling the frame
Trying to take mine
C
You'll be hugging a stain
Like I'm hugging the lane
Em
Screw tape still on, drank in my cup
Roach ass hoes,
Em
still calling my phone
Representing for the South,
Verse 8
24 inch black, Fleetwood glider
They love the way the drop sit wider
Em
Lord knows haters mad
C
When the left fly by ya
Call it what you want
But the Lac stay way liver
Em
Boppers all on my dick,
with the trunk up
C
Beating up the Boulevard
With the beat pumped up
Em
Hit a switch on the remote,
the front jump up
Roam that'll get you lumped up
Em
Hopping out looking like do's
Throwed wardrobe,
by my bed son of a bastard
Em
When it come to Cadillacs
Trae got that mastered
C
And the game that I got,
way flyer than NASA
C
Representing for the drank sippers
Iced out grills, and the wood grain
Em
grippers
C
84 swangs, and the late night tippers
Riding for the hood,
Cadillac tight whippers
Verse 9
C
I got that candy red, with extra gloss
Heads turn, when they see me floss
Scooped up Trae, on a sunny day
Holla at Jay'Ton, and my boy Lil' Boss
Em
Trunk to stay popping,
Cause the swangas poking
And the blades stay chopping
Beat the case, but the FEDs still watching
In the Fed- Ex truck
Em
Right down the street plotting
Dropped the top, if the sun on shine
C
Sipping on some potent, puffing on pine
Em
Slow Loud And Bangin',
Down here in H Town, it go down
Em
Old school Chevies, and throwback
Swangas and vogues, with
a trunk that crack
C
down here in the 3rd Coast
Em
Houston Texas, at the bottom of the map baby
Outro 1
C
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Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteC Em
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