Feat. Rick Ross, The Game, Fat Joe, Pusha-T & Dirtbag
DJ Khaled:
Yeah, it's DJ Khaled Don Dotta
Big Dog Pitbull, Terror Squadron AKA The Beat Novocain
Remix, remix, remix
Listennn, Dre (this is, this is)
Pusha (this is, this is, this is)
The Game (this is, this is, this is)
Fat Joe (this is, this is, this is, this is)
Rick Ross, listennn
Verse 1
Pusha-T:
If he claim king, and he claim best
Then I guess you could call me god
There's none higher, none flyer, the kingpin is back
Louis Vuitton frames hide the face of the supplier
Peek-a-boo, take a look at what these kilos do
Air conditioner Jacob watches, three on blue
100 thousand, it should come in some Maalox too
Give me the option to get it serviced and just be loose
Three years gone, feds tappin' the phone
Rappers downloading my style, I'm feeling like a ringtone (Yuk)
The hiatus, they tried to Mini-Me me
Triple beams to big jeans; they'll never be me
Re-Up Gang, known as the Kilo Shoppers
Riding Chevy's, give us room to reload choppers
Gourmet beef, servin' niggas filet Oscar
So many bitches screamin' we should promote operas, haha
Verse 2
The Game:
Chevy ridin' high boy, look at the hot wheels
If you hot-headed, we gon' pop steel
And when I pop the trunk, you see a lotta pumps
I make the ass bounce like a bitch in some Prada pumps
I drive '6-Treys ('6-Treys) '6-4s ('6-4s)
The real '6-4s, watch that ass get low
And I'm the rappin' assassin, ask Rick Ross
Gangstas don't dance, we make the car do the Laffy Taffy
I ain't Yung Joc, but I got a motorbike
And I got a hoe I like, she like to do the motorbike
I'm from Murdaville, and I rep the Dodgers
Throwing white balls out that '6-4 Impala
Verse 3:
Dre:
No, it's not the Doctor, but it's still D-R-E
Tryna move them units like the Chronic did in '93 (Yeah)
On that 95 (Yeah) doin' 95
I let four of them things go for like 95
Black Dickies set, black Chevrolet Impala (Whoo)
Trunk fulla that black market packed product (Whoo)
Game hit me, told me Black Wallstreet popped the collar (Uh)
Pusha-T, I got yo' back nigga, I'ma holla (Yeah)
They tryna J.F.K. your boy (No)
The media and papers tryna blame ya boy (No)
But the only thing gettin' dropped because of me (Ya)
Is the roof on that '7-Trey Chevy Caprice
Hook
Dre & Rick Ross:
Chevy ridin' high boy, Chevy ridin' high boy
Chevy ridin' high
(Bumping gangsta music)
Chevy, Chevy ridin' high boy
Chevy ridin' high boy, Chevy ridin' high
(Bumping gangsta music)
Verse 4
Fat Joe:
Throw your money in the air niggas
Put your sets up (yeah)
If you're ready to ride and down to wet some'n
It's Coca baby (yes) say it with conviction
DA's hate me, I got no convictions
They won't leave me 'til the day they greet me with life
Catchin' up with old friends is like speakin' to the mic
And I ain't Mr. Innocent, but some'n ain't right
When there's five docs, get in a lineup then I'm right
My life's a movie (Yes)
You love to hate me (Yes)
GT Porsche, double exhaust baby
It's all bubbles when you sittin' on mils
Then you fucked the game up with them Puerto Rico grills
Verse 5
Rick Ross:
My guns got whips, quiet-ridin' on them Air Shox
Ice cream got the car painted like a glow-pot (Ross)
No chop, just guts in the glasshouse
10 blocks, no cut in my last house
Pull the pots out, watch out, I'm a chef (chef)
It's Ricky Ross, I'm the boss and the fuckin' best (best)
I'ma burn rubber (rubber)
I'ma burn cheese (cheese)
I'ma burn these boys tryna hurt me
Verse 6
Dirtbag:
I'm on that reefer and liquor
Whent on the block kinda pitcher
The public see me in my Chevy, gotta start they want pictures
We ridin' 6's and vogues, 30's and lows
Now it's 20 stitches, bitches throwin' up those
Zoes call me Sal, Latinos call me Susio
Chevy ridin' high, like you seen a UFO
Haters be creepin' cuz all that work I be leapin'
Now Or Laters be leakin'
Elevators, can't reach 'em baby
Hook
Dre & Rick Ross:
Chevy ridin' high boy, Chevy ridin' high boy
Chevy ridin' high
(Bumping gangsta music)
Chevy, Chevy ridin' high boy
Chevy ridin' high boy, Chevy ridin' high
(Bumping gangsta music)
(Repeat)
