Andre Nickatina, Mac Dre - My Homeboy's Chevy lyrics

We out here on the streets man
Thowin' ribs down and shit
Finna roll up this God's Gift to purple
Can you get a good focus on that?
(Read it read it)
Pull up in something like that
Go get yo weed from the store the legit way
Quit thuggin' out
Quit drivin' yo buckets to the
Turf and gettin' yo weed
Drive something legit and buy yo
Weed from the store like real bossy

I'm on a block stacked up got twamps of kill
Burpin' out my 74 Bonneville
No time to chill i'm on the grind for real
What you want? What you need?
Tryin' to find some pills?
Well come holla at yo
Neighborhood thug supply
Got everythang that a nigga love to buy
It's me, M-D skirtin' from the killer whales
Black and whites is always on a nigga's tail
But, I'm hypo, nitro, keep the Chevy Vogue'n
Floatin'
From Sac to Oakland but the sack you smokin'
Nobody does it better, Gangsta Mac
Kill a nigga and the bitch I sweat her
I gets my cheddar ching ching and all that
Put it in a Backwood nigga roll that
It's nothing playa a little game and muscle
It's all it takes to get a gang a rustle

I sit low in my homeboy's Chevy
My Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes
Yo baby peep the science of
Something that's an actual fact
Yo you can't mix love with rap
You better step back
My K Swiss, like the step on the gas
And if you knew how fast
You'd think I just might crash
I think I saw the devil all
Up in my purple bag
And still I have to roll fat
Can you believe that?

Can I believe that? Did you retrieve that?
The money in the bag homie I'ma need that
My Blackberry cellphone confuses me
I got women talking about Nicki you using me
I got Kool Gee Rap yo
In my speakers in the back
My car shine like a new gat
I'm with the "Genie of the Lamp"
Comin' off the exit ramp
I grab cash like a calf cramp
I like garlic butter with Alioto's crab
My son had a fight i told him work the jab
Sometimes I'm very stingy
But yo I'm mostly greedy
Been eatin' onion rings
On Polk street, that's very greasy
Man it's cracking like a flower seed
Blowing off a gang of weed
Next to the authority
Picture four or more of me
Racing through this shit like the Olympics
Running red lights
Never caring about a witness

I sit low in my homeboys Chevy
My Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes
Yo baby picture tryin to sell somethin
That's an actual fact yo
If you can't mix love with rap
You better step back
My K swiss, like the step on the gas
And if you knew how fast
You think I just might crash
I think I saw the devil all
Up in my purple bag
And still I have to roll phat
Can you believe that?