The Collective

[Intro]
Yeah, da-da-da da-da
As the joint burns, and the wheels turn, yeah
And I never that I would have one

[Verse 1]
Interstate hound, Forgiatto wheels, Cadillac grille
Bumpin' my nigga Big K.R.I.T
Coming down smelling like Bond number 9 and a half a pound
That's what I do, I thought you knew
You've been informed, you been warned
Its up to you, whoever fit the shoe
Still a Chevy man through and through
But it's something about that El Dorado coupe and the way she moves
Baby blue my latest boo, lowriders yea I got a few
But its just something different, you gotta sit in it
Custom machine I'm steering
Make every arrival a grand appearance
Smoking some fire right outside the building
Chopping the game up for these ghetto children
Cold chillin', flowing like a polo linen

[Interlude]
And I never ever thought I'd get a Cadillac
Yeah, uh

[Verse 2]
Haven't driven the Rolls since some days
I been Cadillacin' bumpin that UGK
Smokin' gas in a real major way
On wheels the collective we been making plays
Legal trappin', made it rich from rappin'
My life the shit I had to just go and tell you how it happen
Over these beats, I know you hear them snares gettin' at you
Like the rat-a-tat of assault rifles from project battles
I'm sliding past you in a blast from the past, like super fast
Interior beyond cold, I swear to god it's laid out like a condo
I'm a let that one set in bro

[Interlude 2]
And I never ever thought I'd get a Cadillac
But I'm highered up dippin' in the Cadillac
Smokin' one for my nigga Big K.R.I.T. in the Cadillac

[Outro]
Eastside on the rise
Keep the E in it
Nigga we smoking weed in it
Laughing in the pictures
Wouldn't write about it if a niggas didn't live it
Yeah, that's the difference
Y'all act like some bitches
Yeah

[Truck Turner Samples]
Hey momma
What is it?
Blue, he's here
Well send him out here, you get back in the house
I can't even say hello?
Look, bitch
Look, you getting into shit ankle dip
You gonna trip and fall and when you do, I'm not gonna hardly be there
That's your choice, nigga
You coming or going?
Blue, all you son of a bitches is crazy
You get the fuck away from me you son of a bitch
Well Blue, I presume you came to talk business
You don't see me with my cock in my hand, do you, Dorinda?
Who's he, you're test-tube?
He's looking in your house for tapes
Shit nigga, this ain't the White House
Well you better get it together, bitch
[?] just left here with [?] in his shoes
What's the matter, Blue? Can't you cut the job?
I am the job