Yeah I want to write this song about my Cadillac Cuz ther're so fuckn' cool The Nineteen sixties I dont care if I get Eight miles to the gallon Caddies
Yeah, I want to write this song about my Cadillac 'Cuz ther're, so fuckn' cool The nineteen sixties I don't care if I get eight miles to the gallon Caddys
Traduction: Lit. Cadillac.
Intro Se Se oh Se La vie et belle et la ville est sans pitie Ils ont pense ca quand ils t'on retrouve Les yeux ouverts Un sourire fige dans ton lit Decede
happened last time they started." Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown And there was nobody aroun', I got into the driver's seat And I drove 42nd Street In my Cadillac
call out your guards You can fence in your yard, you can pull all the cards But I won't back down, oh no I won't back down, oh no (Verse 1) Cadillacs
alarm you can call out your guards you can fence in your yard you can pull all the cards but I won?t back down oh no I wont back down Oh no, [Eminem] Cadillacs
ride on the track; Got the bitch in the back of the billy yo? When my celeb used to have the bitch in the back of the Cadillac (it's just impossible)
weavin' down suburban streets Till this one house wife started bitchin' at me So I pulled the bug over and I revved it up First gear lit em up, then
as, he he he he he he, you think you fly, i know you not, he he he he he he, you tote cho knife, i tote my glock, big body, cadillac, woman in the back
jumped out the shower feelin fresh than a muh'fucka [Luda] Witcha good shoes on, y'knahmtalkinbout? [Quik] You mean like, paid off a Cadillac car note? [Luda] Like a Cadillac
rank What you thank with ya hatin' ass Hehehehehe, you think you fly, I know you not Hehehehehe, you tote yo knife, I tote my glock Big body cadillac
Je te donne toutes les Cadillac civiles Tous les diners chez Maxime Tous les cinq etoiles de la ville, Avec terrasse et piscine Je donne ma Rollex, mon
to buy the whole hood Legit' now, I ain't gotta lie to no judge I make hits now, money I flip now Hood fella every honey wanna kiss now I lit up my neck
Then I yell ho We knockin em off they feet like a Southern hustler supposed to do I's in the house, house like, a joint is lit fo my kin folks And all
Camp Got this thang lit like stamps and nine-volt battery end caps Making that music that make your neck hurt And the beats that bother your back in my Cadillac
