![]() 08/28/2014 at 02:02 • Filed to: None | ![]() | ![]() |
Cars Reach Everything Around Me, Cream, got no bus passes, Daily Daily Drive Y'all
I grew up on right side, the left-hand-drive side, learning to drive on a ride
Had second hands, springs bounced an old Benz, so then I moved to hydraulic bags
A young youth, couldn't avoid a moose, for truth, only way I begin to race was off the route
It started like this son, driving with this one, and that one, making burnouts for fun
But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend, started popping wheelies at sixteen.
And running new transport, doing pulls for high torque, staying away from traffic court
No question I would speed, new brakes and greed, the installation made my hands bleed.
No question I would blow-through, and try the flow through, blowing head bolts from 2 bars
My slip got no better, same damn low-revver, seats were rough and tough and leather
Figured I went the wrong route
So I got with a sick crate block and went all out
2JZ from across seas, limited LSD, every week we spend 40 Gs
Yo brothas respect mine, or anger the sub-9s
Vr-ooom line up and stage now!
Cars Reach Everything Around Me, Cream, got no bus passes, Daily Daily Drive Y'all
It's been 22 long hard years and still struggling, daily driving got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival
I peep at the cars on the street, and stay awake to the ways of Honda, because shit is neat.
A man with a dream with plans to make CREAM
Which failed, Impounded at the age of 15
A young truck driving up and such who never had much, trying to dump a clutch at what I could not touch
The court played me short, I face license suspension, racin', bus seat's my destination
Wheel-boot in an impound lot, left to rot, life as a truck shouldn't be so rough
But as the world turned I learned life is whack, driving in the street is different from a track.
Everyday I escape from brakes' wearing face, losing race, smoking pads in the wheel case.
Though I don't know why I chose to trail brake, I guess that's the time when I'm not a fake
But I'm still a fake, and I ask what's it pay? Ready to give up so I seek the old way.
Who explained working hard may help you sustain, to learn to overcome the crowded pits and lanes
We got boosted civics, swapped plugs and cracked rods; and Nos Shots, all on the block that stays hot.
Leave it up to me while I be living proof, to kick the truth, to the young hoon youth.
But civics running wild, smokin pipe, burning oil, and aint' trying to hear what I'm kickin' in his ear.
Neglectied for now, but yo, it's got have the chance here
That what?
That miata is the answer.
![]() 08/28/2014 at 02:05 |
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I'm applauding you right now.
This is great!
![]() 08/28/2014 at 02:26 |
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We got boosted civics, swapped plugs and cracked rods
Okay, this is some ingenious wordplay
![]() 08/28/2014 at 02:54 |
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Back in high school, I knew guys who used to go through civic B-blocks like they were candy.
![]() 08/28/2014 at 07:40 |
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hahaha WU
![]() 08/28/2014 at 16:52 |
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And I'm gonna keep liking it, and liking it, and liking it