Paroles: Lil' Wyte. Got'm Lookin.

[Intro:]
Yea it?s your boy Lil Wyte. I ain?t never gave a fuck, you know me.
Boy got no license warrants probation, all kinds of shit, tags expired fuck em.
They ain?t gonna get me, I?ma keep doing my thang.
Got work in my sock, glock on the seat, we ain?t playin with em.
You have to catch me pimp. Come on catch me!

[Chorus x2:]
Ridin? dirty got this weed in my sock
on the seat a plastic glock, ah shit I see the cops (yep!)
They lookin? they lookin? the candy got?em lookin oooh!
They lookin? they lookin? the candy got?em lookin oooh!

[Verse 1:]
I?m binning through the Bay, and I?m white as a ghost
Candy Chevy brown rag lookin? like some French toast
Got knock in the back, big rims and limo tint
It don?t matter ?cause the po-pos they know who?s up in it
It?s me W-Y-T-E flickin? down your block
Got some weed in my sock and on my seat a plastic glock
And it?s cocked ready to go, ready to blow in the battle field
If the bullet don?t put you down, the beating from the handle will
I?m riding dirty like Chamillitary and they?re hating
Police sitting on the next block and they?re waiting
For me to try leave the hood and jump right back on the slab
If it was up to the cop for this lil cracker they would have to grab

[Chorus]

[Verse 2:]
Now I?m riding down I-40 doing 85
Snatching four lanes trying to make the interstate mine
I was just in the Bay where the police are hot as hell
On my way to my side of town, fuck it might as well
Jump off the slab and get a box of grape swishers,
A two by four, a buzz tatorlow and chicken livers
I left the Chevy crunk and the alarm on
Jumped back in pedal to the medal straight to Shelby Farms
Beating with my Xanax man, dealing with the man in advance
Trying not to be served attention in this stranded land
But they lookin?, they lookin? the candy got?em lookin? oooh
I?m pushing and booking and cooking like some Cajun food bitch.

[Chorus]