Switch Styles Reloaded Songtext

Pop my car in your driveway, you'll think I send ya desert
Think I cooked up some fruit the way the orange is burnt
I'm talking bout my exergen my rims done already turnt
That means I got miles on it just call me when y'all want it
I turn on that navigation then enter in my opponent
Sound like that old Koopa, but look how that boy thrown it
That mean it already throwed if you see that I'm on it
Look at the lot I own it, and under that I bury ya
Got a coffin delivery let me call my carrier
And I ain't even heard of ya, my paper is thirtier
A living room looking striaght at a gallery furniture
I will murder a murderer I don't worry with worriers
I get further and further ya plus my whip look perverted, huh
Top taking off with that naked lady inserted her
Sexy frame on the fender, try'na get my doe like a burglar
Believe that I hurt you, you know the Beamer is purple
The TV screens in the Beamer goin hit the scene like it's Urkel
You gots to keep on falling but I'm a keep on ballin'
The groupies like bill collectors cause they just keep on calling
With all these car-loving woman I feel like double O seven Can they just throw your car, shut the F up and go get em
I leave em stiff as a denim, I decorate em fasho
I'm a leave em stiff as a doe, and lay em out like a flo
Switch Styles

I pull up on em with the rag top leaning
Hit that button on the dash until it close (till it close)
The laws try'na pull my caddy thang over
But my pistol hitting somewhere by the flow (by the flow)
Oh, I'm getting that money and you know it
And I'll probably go and blow it on some jewels (on some jewels)
And you know this is true but'cha got me confused
I won't go broke I'm nothing like you

Switch Styles
Ay, stop talking bout what you finna do
You goin get the doe then go get the doe
I'm a ball all the way till I'm fifty-fo
And spend all my doe on gettin mo
Cause I'm way cooler than you dudes
And I'm way smoother than you fools
Yes the paint, then yes the shoes
I got a new whip I call it Blue's Clues
I'm the baddest rapper in the southern region
Been the hardest rapper out the forty-fo
You don't wanna be the one to go toe-to-toe
Cause I slow ya roll and you know it bro
Combo and I brought some doe
You already know I don't Converse
And if a hater try'na take my doe
Then I'll break his face with my Converse
Talk last and then bomb first
Like Machiavelli I'm having Fetti
Money power and fame cool but you get em all and you out a deli
Don't ever beg I feel that is petty
I don't wear J's I leave that to Nelly
You ain't even talk trash yet
But I'll raise your mind and I'm mad already