Whips Lyrics
| Song | Whips |
| Artist | Ces Cru |
| Album | Codename: Ego Stripper |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1 - Godemis:] | |
| I'm footloose, y'all be like "Damn" | |
| Maintain with the right lane | |
| Y'all ain't do it like Strange, finna burn y'all when the light change | |
| I'm ski skirtin' gettin' small and I'm in a straight line on my jack*************ft | |
| Tryin' shake haters on my playmaker blackin' out in oncoming traffic | |
| Just imagine if, the frame was a little bit lighter considering jag lift | |
| I could prolly clear a row of buses on you mother******s for trying to nab with | |
| Don't get mad *************, better jet son | |
| Wanna bad *************? Go and get one | |
| I'm that quick, suck a fat ************* | |
| Wanna rap up, need to get done | |
| Suck it, I enter I might rip | |
| Burnin' this rubber I might slip | |
| Strugglin' tryn'a get my grip | |
| Doin' 80 right over this white strips | |
| With the pedalin' motorin' goin' and so when I run it, then I'ma just fly out the whip | |
| If you ain't numero uno you ass and prolly don't do it like I do it | |
| Go | |
| [Verse 2 - Ubiquitous:] | |
| Yo, if you can't hang y'all that's peace | |
| See I B.Y.O.B | |
| I bang y'all on beats, and I bet your backyard obese, ************* | |
| Better believe I'm bombastic, bro know that my ball that big | |
| Y'all fabric, fabricated in a fabergé egg sack *************t | |
| In a nutshell y'all corn*************, that's corny nuts y'all done warmed up | |
| Snatchin' out on this bad traffic, I'm an asshole and my horn's stuck | |
| I switched lanes, like Rittz came | |
| In the backseat with a stick mane | |
| I'm an athlete, y'all are Mitch Bade | |
| And yo ************* came with a | |
| [?] | |
| Uh, let me explain, got a sick brain, I was born nuts | |
| Now, who's the master? The Sho Nuff | |
| Ask J, yo you know it ain't no hold up (Ay!) | |
| You don't have to answer, the fact is you can't survive the standard | |
| Don't act as if, I ain't had your ************* | |
| Holdin' me close like I'm a tiny dancer (Ah) | |
| Now back on the highway, countin' these headlights, get ya head right | |
| I stand by, y'all out the car on the side of the street gettin' read ya rights | |
| I see y'all stuck goin' round and around and around the back | |
| I secure the trophy, count 'em out, Beverly Hills down and out |
| Verse 1 Godemis: | |
| I' m footloose, y' all be like " Damn" | |
| Maintain with the right lane | |
| Y' all ain' t do it like Strange, finna burn y' all when the light change | |
| I' m ski skirtin' gettin' small and I' m in a straight line on my jack ft | |
| Tryin' shake haters on my playmaker blackin' out in oncoming traffic | |
| Just imagine if, the frame was a little bit lighter considering jag lift | |
| I could prolly clear a row of buses on you mother s for trying to nab with | |
| Don' t get mad , better jet son | |
| Wanna bad ? Go and get one | |
| I' m that quick, suck a fat | |
| Wanna rap up, need to get done | |
| Suck it, I enter I might rip | |
| Burnin' this rubber I might slip | |
| Strugglin' tryn' a get my grip | |
| Doin' 80 right over this white strips | |
| With the pedalin' motorin' goin' and so when I run it, then I' ma just fly out the whip | |
| If you ain' t numero uno you ass and prolly don' t do it like I do it | |
| Go | |
| Verse 2 Ubiquitous: | |
| Yo, if you can' t hang y' all that' s peace | |
| See I B. Y. O. B | |
| I bang y' all on beats, and I bet your backyard obese, | |
| Better believe I' m bombastic, bro know that my ball that big | |
| Y' all fabric, fabricated in a faberge egg sack t | |
| In a nutshell y' all corn, that' s corny nuts y' all done warmed up | |
| Snatchin' out on this bad traffic, I' m an asshole and my horn' s stuck | |
| I switched lanes, like Rittz came | |
| In the backseat with a stick mane | |
| I' m an athlete, y' all are Mitch Bade | |
| And yo came with a | |
| ? | |
| Uh, let me explain, got a sick brain, I was born nuts | |
| Now, who' s the master? The Sho Nuff | |
| Ask J, yo you know it ain' t no hold up Ay! | |
| You don' t have to answer, the fact is you can' t survive the standard | |
| Don' t act as if, I ain' t had your | |
| Holdin' me close like I' m a tiny dancer Ah | |
| Now back on the highway, countin' these headlights, get ya head right | |
| I stand by, y' all out the car on the side of the street gettin' read ya rights | |
| I see y' all stuck goin' round and around and around the back | |
| I secure the trophy, count ' em out, Beverly Hills down and out |
| Verse 1 Godemis: | |
| I' m footloose, y' all be like " Damn" | |
| Maintain with the right lane | |
| Y' all ain' t do it like Strange, finna burn y' all when the light change | |
| I' m ski skirtin' gettin' small and I' m in a straight line on my jack ft | |
| Tryin' shake haters on my playmaker blackin' out in oncoming traffic | |
| Just imagine if, the frame was a little bit lighter considering jag lift | |
| I could prolly clear a row of buses on you mother s for trying to nab with | |
| Don' t get mad , better jet son | |
| Wanna bad ? Go and get one | |
| I' m that quick, suck a fat | |
| Wanna rap up, need to get done | |
| Suck it, I enter I might rip | |
| Burnin' this rubber I might slip | |
| Strugglin' tryn' a get my grip | |
| Doin' 80 right over this white strips | |
| With the pedalin' motorin' goin' and so when I run it, then I' ma just fly out the whip | |
| If you ain' t numero uno you ass and prolly don' t do it like I do it | |
| Go | |
| Verse 2 Ubiquitous: | |
| Yo, if you can' t hang y' all that' s peace | |
| See I B. Y. O. B | |
| I bang y' all on beats, and I bet your backyard obese, | |
| Better believe I' m bombastic, bro know that my ball that big | |
| Y' all fabric, fabricated in a fabergé egg sack t | |
| In a nutshell y' all corn, that' s corny nuts y' all done warmed up | |
| Snatchin' out on this bad traffic, I' m an asshole and my horn' s stuck | |
| I switched lanes, like Rittz came | |
| In the backseat with a stick mane | |
| I' m an athlete, y' all are Mitch Bade | |
| And yo came with a | |
| ? | |
| Uh, let me explain, got a sick brain, I was born nuts | |
| Now, who' s the master? The Sho Nuff | |
| Ask J, yo you know it ain' t no hold up Ay! | |
| You don' t have to answer, the fact is you can' t survive the standard | |
| Don' t act as if, I ain' t had your | |
| Holdin' me close like I' m a tiny dancer Ah | |
| Now back on the highway, countin' these headlights, get ya head right | |
| I stand by, y' all out the car on the side of the street gettin' read ya rights | |
| I see y' all stuck goin' round and around and around the back | |
| I secure the trophy, count ' em out, Beverly Hills down and out |
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