Killer Mike, Poo Bear, Big Boi - My Chrome lyrics
Killer Mike [Michael Santiago Render] Atlanta, Georgia, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Killer Mike, Poo Bear, Big Boi - My Chrome lyrics]
(You don't have to go home)
One time, one time - one time, one time
Easy, that cush shit got me sleepy
Rollin down 85, leaning but I ain't weaving
Man you should stay a day in the A
A parade of them chevelots
The colors of flavor aid
Can you believe I got it made
Impala in the garage
Got Forces and all the J's i'm leaning back
Ride shotgun in the Chevy with
The homeboy burning sacs
We heading to the spot where
We get down, nigga, where the bitches at?
If they talking right, acting right
Walking right down to take flight, they
Ain't gotta go home, they can stay the night
You don't have to go home
You can stay right here, put one in the air
While we're bending corners on my chrome
Same shit another year
In the southern hemisphere
Wait a while, you don't have to go
Nigga, hold up, hold up
Make sure they see you when you roll
Hop out that truck all ready fucked up
Toe up from the motherfucking blow up
From the floor up to the ceiling
Smoke kiss in the walls in
The top of the building
Lile momma's on e, sitting next to me
She's catching a feeling
And I'm feeling like I'm 'pose to
I'm as fly as a Jordan poster
I'm leaning and breathe smelling like hen
And a mix of hydroponic
By the the time my click find me in
VIP I'm lost in a cloud of chronic
Had sex with the best, got head from the rest
Motherfucker, believe I done it
Hot Tub Tony, sucka free and still bubblin
Truck still rattling and bumping
Now move something
Hold up Big Boi! I'm still weed crumpling
The sac keeps shaking and block keep jumping
Lay back, lay back
Treat this eight six cut like a Maybach
Hey show these suckas that
After 50 million sold
Daddy Fat Sacs still where the hood at
Hood at
Hood rats and decoy b-boys understood that
Whether it's creme de la creme
Where the good at i got it in that 15
I had to put the swisha down
Cause my lugs got tired
Now lets ride, lets ride
Back down 85, five
With the click in the truck
Full of chicks in the back of the 6
Nobody going home tonight
You don't have to go home
Straighten up your hair
You don't need a mirror
You can fix your makeup in my chrome
Same shit another year
In the southern hemisphere
Wait a while, before you don't have to go
Ahh! It feels like ecstasy
The sound, whoa! feels like ecstasy
Oooh oohh! feels like ecstasy
(feels like ecstasy)
The groove, takes control of me
One time, one time - one time, one time
Easy, that cush shit got me sleepy
Rollin down 85, leaning but I ain't weaving
Man you should stay a day in the A
A parade of them chevelots
The colors of flavor aid
Can you believe I got it made
Impala in the garage
Got Forces and all the J's i'm leaning back
Ride shotgun in the Chevy with
The homeboy burning sacs
We heading to the spot where
We get down, nigga, where the bitches at?
If they talking right, acting right
Walking right down to take flight, they
Ain't gotta go home, they can stay the night
You don't have to go home
You can stay right here, put one in the air
While we're bending corners on my chrome
Same shit another year
In the southern hemisphere
Wait a while, you don't have to go
Nigga, hold up, hold up
Make sure they see you when you roll
Hop out that truck all ready fucked up
Toe up from the motherfucking blow up
From the floor up to the ceiling
Smoke kiss in the walls in
The top of the building
Lile momma's on e, sitting next to me
She's catching a feeling
And I'm feeling like I'm 'pose to
I'm as fly as a Jordan poster
I'm leaning and breathe smelling like hen
And a mix of hydroponic
By the the time my click find me in
VIP I'm lost in a cloud of chronic
Had sex with the best, got head from the rest
Motherfucker, believe I done it
Hot Tub Tony, sucka free and still bubblin
Truck still rattling and bumping
Now move something
Hold up Big Boi! I'm still weed crumpling
The sac keeps shaking and block keep jumping
Lay back, lay back
Treat this eight six cut like a Maybach
Hey show these suckas that
After 50 million sold
Daddy Fat Sacs still where the hood at
Hood at
Hood rats and decoy b-boys understood that
Whether it's creme de la creme
Where the good at i got it in that 15
I had to put the swisha down
Cause my lugs got tired
Now lets ride, lets ride
Back down 85, five
With the click in the truck
Full of chicks in the back of the 6
Nobody going home tonight
You don't have to go home
Straighten up your hair
You don't need a mirror
You can fix your makeup in my chrome
Same shit another year
In the southern hemisphere
Wait a while, before you don't have to go
Ahh! It feels like ecstasy
The sound, whoa! feels like ecstasy
Oooh oohh! feels like ecstasy
(feels like ecstasy)
The groove, takes control of me