Coming Down Songtext
von P$C

I′m coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think
I'm coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think


I′m coming down in the old school candy look quite excellent
Bitches stop and stare, like they possessed by the exorcist
If I let them in I bet they never want to exit it
They see the rainbow of the skittle rolling on them peppermints
I got them higher than the lead singer from the Parliament
Skating in the monster ride, muscle cars I'm masculine
Hoes don't fall in my lap, my pimping ain′t no accident
They asked for this, when they glued they eyes to the limo tint
I′m on the highway dipping in the seven Michael Vick-ing it
I mean I'm riding swerving in your car, I′m barely missing it
Turning up that Isaac Hayes, smoking on that purple haze
So foggy up in the ride can't see if it′s night or day
But right away bitches fit on feel between each other's legs
Nibble on, nibble on nipples as they stroke each other hair and face
Hotel I′m on my way, fuck faces what we exchange
Just another episode of the heavy Chevy mayne

I'm coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think
I'm coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think


I′m coming down blowing Swisher Sweets
′91 Lac with the wood and the beat
Twenty inch Dayton's, bullet tip on my feet
And the big forty-four with the scope and the beam
Mix the dro with the lean, put your ho on them beans
Pull up on the scene being down with the king
I hope the hoes choose if you know what I mean
Cause the mud so mean and the paint so clean
Wanna join the team, you should know about me
Hoes come last and they worry about me
You see this candy fleet with these clown feet
It be dripping paint all across the street
I leave a trail everywhere I go
They can tell it′s me by the smell of the smoke
Coming down yelling Simpson Road
You can see me shining from a distance ho

In the Chevelle Super Sport with a four-fifty-four
Six twenty-two inches slip off of the floor
And my tires burn rubber with a stop and a go
Hit the gas and my pipes start hollering at hoes
Looking at my leather seats like watching the snow
Tell a ho to wash her hands before she open the door
You used to dealing with them lames but I'm the opposite though
Still will make your mama think I been to college before
Sundays in the A, you be seeing them
On chrome with Drove, K.T. and them
Six Chevys in a row, wet paint up high
That must be the PSC and them
You know T.I., Dolla D, P and them
Mac, A.K., Kuntry and C and them
Far away from Atlanta, hopping out of the Phantom
Puff Nelly, Pharrell, Jay-Z and them

I′m coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think
I'm coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think

I′m coming down like an avalanche, riding in an Avalanche
Hoes dropping it off, giving it up so they can have a chance
Speedometer new, who would've knew
I'm switching my paint out from cherry to blue
Niggas from here gon′ do what we do
Twenty-six tall or a short twenty-two
My Chevy′s electric, shawty don't test it
Think about all of the bread I invested
Audio, video, engine suspension
Buckets of paint just to keep women looking
I′m hooking a right, swanging a left
Beating the block down all by myself
Dranking alone, smoking alone
Not on the phone just rolling alone
And I'm singing my song, gimme that pussy
I think it was made by Webbie and Boosie
Chopping the block, touching blue on my rims
Don′t be touching my radio, touching my dick
You say that you want it girl, act like you didn't
My rims ain′t spinning that shit played out
Capping seats in the fleet, man that thang laid out
No tint on the window cause the thang stay out
What's command? No hands, you ain't feeling what I′m saying
I can roll up the blunt and rub on that ass
And it hurts so bad cause you already know
I′m for real about the cars and the money and the hoes
When you see me boy I'm low in the cut trying to score
Ain′t no telling who be watching trying to peep where I go
And I creep real slow, sitting tall in the 'Lac
Get your hoes out your car make them ride with a mack

I′m coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think
I'm coming down, wet paint
On them thangs, wood grain
Blowed out, leather frame
Fuck what these hoes think