"Indy 500" lyrics
Drivers, start your engines
This shit right here, damn near might be my favorite
I been doing this a long time, way back in the basement
Took a bike ride and the whole time I just stared at the pavement
Spend a last ten on a half gram and I think I'm gonna save it
Bitch who the fuck taught you to drive?
Can you please do it slower 'cause you're blowing my high (goddamn)
Firework, fourth of July
Got my hand out the window and I'm watching it fly
I put five in the tank and I still got gas
Twenty-five for the eighth and I still got cash
Pretty smile, little waist but she still got
You know
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together, goddamn
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number, goddamn goddamn
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
Srrt, oh shit
Say I don't, I don't, want no, want no
No crusty hoe, you little crusty hoe, you old dumbass hoe
Say I know, I know, that I'm gon', I'm gon'
Dust these hoes, dust these hoes, you old dusty hoe
I'ma have to skate pop shove it
Yeah my mom gon' hate and it and my dad gon' love it
And my ex gon' text and I'll probably say fuck it
Mean I'm home for the night, we should probably do something, I got
No plans cause I already skipped two
She can bring her friends and one like skip lou
And that's where I'ma be, my bad if I missed you
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together, goddamn
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number, brr damn
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
This shit right here, damn near might be my favorite
I been doing this a long time, way back in the basement
Took a bike ride and the whole time I just stared at the pavement
Spend a last ten on a half gram and I think I'm gonna save it
Bitch who the fuck taught you to drive?
Can you please do it slower 'cause you're blowing my high (goddamn)
Firework, fourth of July
Got my hand out the window and I'm watching it fly
I put five in the tank and I still got gas
Twenty-five for the eighth and I still got cash
Pretty smile, little waist but she still got
You know
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together, goddamn
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number, goddamn goddamn
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
Srrt, oh shit
Say I don't, I don't, want no, want no
No crusty hoe, you little crusty hoe, you old dumbass hoe
Say I know, I know, that I'm gon', I'm gon'
Dust these hoes, dust these hoes, you old dusty hoe
I'ma have to skate pop shove it
Yeah my mom gon' hate and it and my dad gon' love it
And my ex gon' text and I'll probably say fuck it
Mean I'm home for the night, we should probably do something, I got
No plans cause I already skipped two
She can bring her friends and one like skip lou
And that's where I'ma be, my bad if I missed you
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
Ay, I just had a good-ass summer
Everybody came home, everybody got together, goddamn
Flings on and off like the weather
I just hit the plug, got the same number, brr damn
Tangerine in the sky
The drip don't lie, you should probably call the plumber
Bitch get your hands on the wheel
I ain't playing off the real, this ain't the Indy 500
Writer(s): Kid Quill, Connor May, Mitch Brown
