Parking Lot Pimpin'

Jay-ZYeh, it's that knock right here You fuck around not have the right speakers in your system Your shit be soundin like this *funny sounds* Big thangs, thick chains, ain't shit changed Get brain in the four-dot-six Range Shit mayn, switch lanes Every town I hit you switch lames, bitch flip big 'caine I givin 'em whiplash when I'm whippin the whip fast Which one? Pick one nigga, I got a six stashed Continental T's, no tense like I got a thick stab Big cigar, old money, when I drop it it's so funny Six-four switches, slam doors on 6's Big trucks when I wanna fuck and it's time to get ass I turn automobiles to hotels on wheels I got money for a room it's just the fact that I'm trill Bitches love when I cruise up the boulevard They have contests to guess which car I'ma pull out the yard They know I, come for dolo and pull off with a broad Spin away, spend a day tryin to pull menage Just Mac (?) God, the sunlight hit the ice it's flawless Run lights like I'm the king of New York, I'm lawless Bitches, they wanna hang like plaques in the office Cause I push black Porsches, Benz's and Jaguars-es When the rag's off it, gat on my lap, I'm that cautious Never trust grimy-ass New Yorkers 'Specially when you're sittin on 20's they get nauseous Standin in the Azure with white air forces Chorus: sungYou can catch me in the parkin lot Hollerin at bitches, parkin lot pimpin' Everyday we be off the chains Workin with grain, sittin on them thangs Tryin to find out where dem dollars at (dollars at) So when I holla at you, holla back (holla back) Everyday we be off the chains Ain't nuttin different, parkin lot pimpin' Beanie SigelHolla at me mami! Sigel. You can catch Mac in the parkin lot, pimpin crazy S-5, Navy 'Cedes, sittin on 80 That's four dubs, not S-4 dub Stash box, push +Hot Wheel+ like +Matchbox+ Bitches wanna push my world, they flash box 160, push my wheel, mash cops Cause 160 took my wheel to cash drop Run 60, you Big Will, match cop Lookin through the rearview and Mac was wylin New driver, screwdriver, the cracked steering column Pushin somethin stolen, blastin, picture me rollin Baghdad, couldn't picture me? Now the truth different, Mac come through Coupe roof missin I'm the truth til my fuckin roof missin Mac stay stuck in the Coupe to school pigeons Feathers gettin plucked in the truck from loose chickens, listen Chorus Memphis BleekYo, aiyyo I dip dip dive, what can I say? I can't fit 'em all inside the Escalade So I called up, murder to further my parkin lot pimpin Told 'em get the Impala so I can start dippin Lay back, seat recline, they notice the hand Car movin slow, driven by the invisible man Everything on the dash, digital and I got a fast stashbox don't make me spit at you man In the parkin lot, where I spark a lot I come to show my new feet, slide off with a few freaks Bleek, turn up the beats. . turn up the heat then we burn up the streets, bitch! Chorus 2X