White Walls (feat. Schoolboy Q & Hollis)

I wanna be free
I wanna just live
Inside my cadillac
That is my shit
Now throw it up (I throw that up)
That’s what it is (that’s what it is)
In my c a d I l l a c bitch (biatch)
Can’t see me through my tints (nah ah)
I’m riding real slow (slow motion)
In my paint wet drippin shinin' like my 24’s (umbrella)
I ain’t got 24’s (na-uh)
But I’m on those vogues
That’s those big white walls, round them hundred spokes
Old school like olde english in that brown paper bag
I’m rolling in that same whip that my granddad had
Hello haters, damn y’all mad
30K on the caddy, now how backpack rap is that?

I got that off-black cadillac, midnight drive
Got that gas pedal, leaning back, taking my time
I’m blowin’ that roof off, letting in sky
I shine, the city never looked so bright

Man I’m lounging in some shit bernie mac would’ve been proud in
Looking down from heaven like damn that’s stylish
Smilin’, don’t pay attention to the mileage
Can I hit the freeway? I’m legally going 120
Easy weaving in and out of the traffic
They cannot catch me, I’m smashing
I’m ducking, bucking them out here
I’m looking fucking fantastic, I am up in a classic
Now I know what it’s like under the city lights
Riding into the night, driving over the bridge
The same one we walked across as kids
Knew I’d have a whip but never one like this
Old school, old school, candy paint, two seater
Yea, I’m from seattle, there’s hella honda civics
I couldn’t tell you about paint either
But I really wanted a caddy so I put in the hours
And roll on over to the dealer
And I found the car, junior, there's a problem with this geezer
Got the keys in and as I was leaving I started screaming

Backwoods and dope
White hoes in the backseat snorting coke
She doing line after line like she’s writing rhymes
I had her inhaling my love, tryna blow my mind"
Cadillac pimpin’, my uncle was on
14, I stole his keys, me and my niggas was gone
Stealing portions of his liquor, water in his patron
Drivin and smiling like I won the fucking lottery homes
(Fuckin' lottery homes)
Tires with the spokes on it and the vogues too
Mustard and mayonnaise, keeping the buns all on
My dogs hanging out the window
Young as whoosh, fuckin like we ball
Tryna fuck em all, kill the fuckin whips
See what’s poppin’ at the mall, meet a bad bitch
Slap her booty with my balls
You can smoke the pussy, I was tearing down the walls
I’m motherfuckin’ awe...
Some, swear these sights tryna hypnotize
Grip the leather steering wheel while I grip the thighs
See the lust stuck up in her eyes
Maybe she like the ride or did she like the smoke?
Or does she want it low?
Give this shit a coupe de ville so you’ll never know
So we cruise for minutes, my nigga fuck the limit
Got a window tinted for showing gangstas in it
Slide 'till the gas is finished