"96' Impala" lyrics
Peezy & Larry June Lyrics
The '96 Imp, yeah, the Chevy Impala
'86 Cutlass or the Monte Carlo
Before the Trailblazers, we had the Marauders
Your shit ain't runnin' like mine, we can't put up the title
Oldie fresh up out the paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor a little more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this a real flex
You tryna get me off this bitch, gon' cost a real check
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
I'm usually in the foreign, today I'm ridin' an Imp'
Pink Mauri gators on today, I feel like a pimp
Your car ain't runnin' like mine, today I'm talkin' my shit
Think otherwise, put up your title and we can meet at the strip
I'm gettin' it done inside out, that's why it's takin' a bit
I sent it back for a few touch-ups, you know how that get
Rick Ross car show, we need a section just for the clique
Know for a fact my nigga Lou Gramm gon' take home the chip
Got 'bout two hundred in the Chevelle, he coulda bought a new whip
The trunk squattin' and the the back look like it's takin' a shit
Put plastic surgery in the back rim and added the lip
You see the pearl in the paint like when you open a brick
The numbers movin' on the dash, that's that digital shit
I'll pull up to your hood and kill it, you gotta witness this shit
If you ain't spend at least a quarter, then you ain't ridin' like this
You ain't ridin' like this, take that shit back to the shop, boy
The '96 Imp, yeah, the Chevy Impala
'86 Cutlass or the Monte Carlo
Before the Trailblazers, we had the Marauders
Your shit ain't runnin' like mine, we can't put up the title
Oldie fresh up out the paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor a little more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this a real flex
You tryna get me off this bitch, gon' cost a real check
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
Eight hundred horses in the hood with the launch control
Frame off, so you know I had to drop a lot of dough
Fuckin' 'round out the way-way, and just knocked some
If she ain't really with the yamsayin', then she gotta go
I ain't really do too much, but I dropped it though
Slidin' up Knob Hill, avoidin' the potholes
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Pickin' up the ASE from Fremont
My new mate showed my shit was runnin', I ain't stressed about it (Good job)
A custom '87, bet that I don't touch at all (At all)
A green G350, wood grain and all (All)
Maybach, monoblock, might dust it off
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Feelin' like a astronaut when I'm takin' off (Uh)
Feelin' like that nigga, I might swing that shit (Uh-uh)
Fifty K cash on bumpers and fenders (Yeah)
Reverse cam on a '80s whip
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
I don't think nigga came like this
Oldie fresh, I'm 'bout to paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor, a lil' more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this some real flex
You tryna get me off this, bitch, gon' cost a real check
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
Dumps
'86 Cutlass or the Monte Carlo
Before the Trailblazers, we had the Marauders
Your shit ain't runnin' like mine, we can't put up the title
Oldie fresh up out the paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor a little more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this a real flex
You tryna get me off this bitch, gon' cost a real check
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
I'm usually in the foreign, today I'm ridin' an Imp'
Pink Mauri gators on today, I feel like a pimp
Your car ain't runnin' like mine, today I'm talkin' my shit
Think otherwise, put up your title and we can meet at the strip
I'm gettin' it done inside out, that's why it's takin' a bit
I sent it back for a few touch-ups, you know how that get
Rick Ross car show, we need a section just for the clique
Know for a fact my nigga Lou Gramm gon' take home the chip
Got 'bout two hundred in the Chevelle, he coulda bought a new whip
The trunk squattin' and the the back look like it's takin' a shit
Put plastic surgery in the back rim and added the lip
You see the pearl in the paint like when you open a brick
The numbers movin' on the dash, that's that digital shit
I'll pull up to your hood and kill it, you gotta witness this shit
If you ain't spend at least a quarter, then you ain't ridin' like this
You ain't ridin' like this, take that shit back to the shop, boy
The '96 Imp, yeah, the Chevy Impala
'86 Cutlass or the Monte Carlo
Before the Trailblazers, we had the Marauders
Your shit ain't runnin' like mine, we can't put up the title
Oldie fresh up out the paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor a little more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this a real flex
You tryna get me off this bitch, gon' cost a real check
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
Eight hundred horses in the hood with the launch control
Frame off, so you know I had to drop a lot of dough
Fuckin' 'round out the way-way, and just knocked some
If she ain't really with the yamsayin', then she gotta go
I ain't really do too much, but I dropped it though
Slidin' up Knob Hill, avoidin' the potholes
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Pickin' up the ASE from Fremont
My new mate showed my shit was runnin', I ain't stressed about it (Good job)
A custom '87, bet that I don't touch at all (At all)
A green G350, wood grain and all (All)
Maybach, monoblock, might dust it off
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
Feelin' like a astronaut when I'm takin' off (Uh)
Feelin' like that nigga, I might swing that shit (Uh-uh)
Fifty K cash on bumpers and fenders (Yeah)
Reverse cam on a '80s whip
Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye
I don't think nigga came like this
Oldie fresh, I'm 'bout to paint shop, it's still wet
Tweak the motor, a lil' more, then add the rims next
No tint, want 'em to see me, this some real flex
You tryna get me off this, bitch, gon' cost a real check
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your paint drippin', nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your trunk loud, nigga, swing that bitch
Swang, swang, swang, swang that
Your motor runnin', nigga, swing that bitch
I won the trophy this year, it's time to claim that bitch
Dumps
