Lyrics
Yeah, 2003
Big Lou and company
Macks, Peterbilts, GMC’s, white freight liners
Volvos, Marlins, Internationals
Eighteen wheels, we do deals
Major fake baller close your mouth, you rap about the same thing
Record company got you gassed
Now you wanna hold champagne and bounce
And act like you from Down South
I «Pimp Hard» like MJG and Eightball
Called the crib that my girl Kate called
Olde English aluminum can tall
Girls smile when I walk with alligators through the mall
Shiny jeans and baseball cap, no time for rotation crap
No sleep, always up with heat, never take no N-A-P
I.P.P. — International Player
Wherever you search there’s no one greater
But you look at the back of the club walkin around
I see you, that’s you, a HATER!
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Global W.V.C. who can step to me
Got the belt over my head like Ernie Shavers
Y’all be talkin behind my back, rhyme as sweet as Life Savers
From New York, push records out from Detroit
Greyhound bus will get me to the point
From there, I don’t care, pick me up in a pickup truck
I roll wagons fly like blue shoes with big Chuck
Thinkin I gives a fizzucka
Youse a metropolitan plastic-ass, youse a sucka!
Turn let me blast you in the face
A guy like you I should slash in the face
Pick up the lampshade, knock your blunt out your hand
Smear ash in your face!
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
Macks, trucks, big wheels roll
