[Intro: Raekwon]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah nigga

That's all yall niggas talk about all fucking day man

The whips man, fucking cars and all that shit

Fucking vehicles and shit man

We been swingin' and all these niggas need to cut it out man

Cause ya'll niggas is babies man

[Verse 1: Raekwon]

Remember the Four Runners, Corsicas, back with the gold cunnions

Maxima yep, stances, Audis with sick vances

Datsuns, Corollas, all of the oldies yo

Riding through the city, Jettas and Volvos

Crestas' was for the extra terrestrial

Alpha Romeos, yeah the Wranglers and Lexus'

Pintos, Geos, Suzukis was the truth yo

Making them up town trips, cops'll shoot you though

Benzs, five-sixties, Galants and the fly Rivies

Riveras look grisly huh

You know we come through, something mean under the sun roof

I blow a blunt, poof, shorty singing I'm Koof

Yeah the Sterling, the Grand Ams

The Lincoln with the crab amps

Made me mad, in the Blazer we all cramped

Six deep, four bags of cheeba, a crisp beat

All I need to show you now is a sick Jeep

[Verse 2: AZ]

Eighty-four mopeds, blue and white Pro-Keds

Just started puff'n, got instructions from an old head

Co-ved, wally rock'n niggas tryna grow dreads

Back in the bush, Church Ave on the juxs

Shell toes, black and white, no laces in 'em

Pat U-edition had his whole face in 'em

Straight leg denims, Taylor made shit

Kareem Laker colors, low cut suede tip

Stay dipped, Stan Smith lay sick

Two-toned colors, put the taps on the rubber

Puma rockin' nigga, fuck a womber I was bigger

See a bitch in seconds an assumed that I could rip her

None hipper, copped kicks with the zippers

The Filas arrived, it was Levis and high

In V Tracks I was simply the mack

Everything I snatched had to match with the hat

Reebok rocker, whole crew couldn't knock us

Fuck who, only thing to do was just Glock us

Valley Competitions and the Jordans hit stores

I'm sitting reminiscing, T. La Rock it's yours

Now fast forward time nigga still on the grind

Haters everywhere, nigga still gotta shine

Guccis all kinds, switch 'em up for the weather

Louis' in lime, Only do it for the pleasure

Come fresher, from the tech on the dresser

Fifth in the waist, still crys'd and I'm laced

[Outro: AZ]

Niggas, And I do it for real you dig

You know, I still rock the Gor-Tex and Tims when necessary

Other then that, Bogary low cuts the minimum

Or I do the Italian Classic Olympic cut Guccis

Three quarters, you bum ass niggas