Low Low (DJ Mustard)

If it ain't a Chevy, don't raise it up And, if it ain't the kush, don't blaze it up I'm sticking to the script while niggas changing up They beats sounding like the homie, now they fake as fuck But look, I was in the fo' with my crew tryna cop me on the ten Getting high, with my whole hood behind me I had two zones on me, play it cool, there go Johnny As soon as I could say it, I felt like they got behind me So he tried to hit the exit but his brakes ain't working Doing 50 on the red bout to brace the swerve And, much to my surprise We ain't even crashing, ain't nobody died But, we burnt rubber from the side Parked and hopped out like it ain't nobody side Fuck it, GPS the body shop This type of shit happen all the fucking time cause All I do is bounce in my low low Getting called this nigga out the solo Got the burner in the low low Damn nigga, there go po po Pops used to have the low low I was little in a low low You know I got it for the low low You know I get it for the low low Let's get high, bitch, in my Damu ride On my momma, I'm on one, hitting that side to side Bitch, wrapped a flag round the pistol, the rag sit awkward Hop out schwanging, sag show my boxers Belt $12.50, Robins, no Dickie Dice Gang, school 'em like Tee Cee Boy, motherfuck a rumor, last week I died twice But lose your mind and double cross me, hope you find Christ Papa was a rolling stone in the low rider Piru boy with more passes than a Globetrotter '6-4, six chains, Impala Bend the corner, three-wheeling, scrape the bottom Front, back, pancake, fuck what a man say Pull up on your hood, day, and park it on your landscape