[Hook x2]

In my ol skool Pontiac, sippin on Cognac

Ten racks, sit back, ditch that Cognac

Niggas get to talking what they talkin’ they be all that

Runnin’ round the city someone tell me where the party at

[Verse 1: Jeremih]

I’mma get this paper, like I did before

Say you feelin’ low, go and hit the dro

Cruisin’ like I’m aimless niggas famous and I got the dough

I’mma a star so let me shine nigga .. glow

Yeah, I aint stuntin’ in this bitch

Say you hurtin’ yeah thats I’m fine in this bitch

Did that song with Fab but now its my time in this bitch

Not into the X-Games but I grind in this bitch

Yeah, think its fair, think again

Plenty one’s, couple five’s, stack the tens

Got the tree, break it down, keep the stems

By yourself? hell naw, bring a friend

Nigga I be on that shit that ya’ll aint heard of

Girl you know your man down

Tell me what you scared of?

Gon’ and lift your skirt up

I know we usually cruisin’ in the Beemer kinda tired of the Rover

So you probably catch my leanin’ in my

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2: Big Sean]

Okay, I’m rollin’ o-o-o-o-ozo boi

I’m dumb high, I’m dumb high

Yeah nigga West side bitch I run my

Hoe slow it down like I got my thumb high

and I got her on her knees like I got my gun (high)

I’m in my old school I feel like the alumni

Wishiing we could trade cars, comin’ from the underground

Cause bitch I’m working grave yard

Car lookin like its sittin’ on thirty floors, thirty doors, thirty whores

Few black bitches and Fergie whores

Nigga this shit look like Jersey Shore

I’m on fire bitch, a loose cannon

My cars Bruce Wayne, I feel like Bruce Banner

Rip her clothes off, car so big wanna whip that shit

Don’t stand to close when I hit them curbs

Motherfucker might clip them toes off

B-I-G I’m that important

You spend all day with her spoonin’

I spend all night with her forkin’

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3: Paul Wall]

Im in my old school American made build in Michigan

Squeezin’ that wood grain, my fingers keep on blisterin’

Haters keep on whispering talking down snickering

Cause my name the one boppers and groupies keep on mentioning

Range Rover, Bentley, and Benz I’ve done em all

But I’d rather flip a JFK Lincoln on white walls

My motto is grind hard, paper shit to follow

Philosophy for Franklins something like Aristotle

Double cup filled to the top so drive slow

In the ’59 Bonneville with the bumper hangin’ low

I cruise through the Chi

Hit Mc office for the munchies

My slab is candy pomegranite I get some country

Coming straight out of Texas, where the old schools rule

Take notes how I slab professional act a fool

[Hook x2]