Jeremih - Ol' Skool Pontiac Lyrics
[Hook x2]In my ol skool Pontiac, sippin on CognacTen racks, sit back, ditch that CognacNiggas get to talking what they talkin’ they be all thatRunnin’ round the city someone tell me where the party at[Verse 1: Jeremih]I’mma get this paper, like I did beforeSay you feelin’ low, go and hit the droCruisin’ like I’m aimless niggas famous and I got the doughI’mma a star so let me shine nigga .. glowYeah, I aint stuntin’ in this *****Say you hurtin’ yeah thats I’m fine in this *****Did that song with Fab but now its my time in this *****Not into the X-Games but I grind in this *****Yeah, think its fair, think againPlenty one’s, couple five’s, stack the tensGot the tree, break it down, keep the stemsBy yourself? hell naw, bring a friendNigga I be on that shit that ya’ll aint heard ofGirl you know your man downTell me what you scared of?Gon’ and lift your skirt upI know we usually cruisin’ in the Beemer kinda tired of the RoverSo you probably catch my leanin’ in my[Hook x2][Verse 2: Big Sean]Okay, I’m rollin’ o-o-o-o-ozo boiI’m dumb high, I’m dumb highYeah nigga West side ***** I run myHoe slow it down like I got my thumb highand I got her on her knees like I got my gun (high)I’m in my old school I feel like the alumniWishiing we could trade cars, comin’ from the undergroundCause ***** I’m working grave yardCar lookin like its sittin’ on thirty floors, thirty doors, thirty whoresFew black *****es and Fergie whoresNigga this shit look like Jersey ShoreI’m on fire *****, a loose cannonMy cars Bruce Wayne, I feel like Bruce BannerRip her clothes off, car so big wanna whip that shitDon’t stand to close when I hit them curbsMother*****er might clip them toes offB-I-G I’m that importantYou spend all day with her spoonin’I spend all night with her forkin’[Hook x2][Verse 3: Paul Wall]Im in my old school American made build in MichiganSqueezin’ that wood grain, my fingers keep on blisterin’Haters keep on whispering talking down snickeringCause my name the one boppers and groupies keep on mentioningRange Rover, Bentley, and Benz I’ve done em allBut I’d rather flip a JFK Lincoln on white wallsMy motto is grind hard, paper shit to followPhilosophy for Franklins something like AristotleDouble cup filled to the top so drive slowIn the ’59 Bonneville with the bumper hangin’ lowI cruise through the ChiHit Mc office for the munchiesMy slab is candy pomegranite I get some countryComing straight out of Texas, where the old schools ruleTake notes how I slab professional act a fool[Hook x2]
