Chevy Anthem Lyrics - Unplugged (mixtape) - Rick Ross

Remix! (Rick Ross) 

Remix! (Rick Ross) 

Remix! (Rick Ross) 

Chevy Ridin High Boy (Yo Gotti) 

Its Rickey Ross (Rick Ross) 

Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.) 

Its Mon E. G. (Rick Ross) 

Rickey Ross (Mon E. G.) 

Its Rickey Ross (Rick Ross) 

Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.) 

And Mon E. G. (Rick Ross) 

Yo Gotti! (Yo Gotti) 

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(Yo Gotti) 

I remember my first Chevy 73' 

I was 17 ridin wit a whole B 

It was money green, fat boy triple gold 

Tha 20's era, right when we stop ridin fo's 

Lamb'd up ride, 30 inch rims glide 

6 feet off tha ground make it hard fa you ta see inside 

Surround sound like a motion picture 

aquafina rims got my ocean spinnas 

Hit a button, car crank up 

Notha button, do' lift up 

People lookin, what tha fuck 

What is that, a car or truck 

Hit tha lot, drop tha top 

Bitch jump in, late ta block 

VIP done killed tha club, headed ta my otha spot 

Mashin off 454, look like Im passin off 

Rubba burnin, passin yawl 

Rims damn near fallin off 

Yo Gotti, hell naw I aint petty 

So I wanna welcome my haters ta my 100 grand Chevy 

Photos 

Chevy ridin high boy (Mon E. G.) 

My Chevy stay fly (Yo Gotti) 

Got me and yo baby mama (Mon E. G.) 

Sittin off in tha sky (Yo Gotti) 

Mon E. G. (Mon E. G.) 

Yo Gotti (Yo Gotti) 

Its Rickey Ross (Rick Ross) 

No lie (Mon E. G.) 

Its tha (Mon E. G.) 

Chevy Anthem Remix, my Chevy Ridin High (Yo Gotti) 

Yes Sir! (Mon E. G.) 

(Mon E. G.) 

Chevy ridin high, blue candy paint make my teeth hurt 

30's on them low pros, gas brake skee skurt 

Suicide doors wit tha stick in tha floor 

My whole arm stay icy, keep my dick in ya whore 

You dont really wanna race me at tha light, red green take flight 

Glass packs loud pipes, tv's are too bright 

Outta spite, Ima turn up tha sound ta drown ya music 

Cocaine white charger, reminiscin tha Cool Whip 

2 seconds done dipped, smashed out in tha glass house 

West Coast mentallity, here ta switch drop tha ass out 

Im out on errthang, underdog, 

deadly game, big block super fast, put that on errthang 

You can call me Diddy like Sean, hit the bar team winnin 

Feelin good like we winnin tha World Series in tha 9th innin 

Free ya mind like John Lennon, interior blue lemon 

Cuz Im true to every sentence ball out like tha Pistons 

(Rick Ross) 

I started sellin weed dreamin of a 7-3 

Dat didnt cut it so fuck it we out here sellin keys 

Now my roof suede, and my seats gator 

I aint want tints, I like to see haters 

We rollin back to back, and we rollin slow 

Whitney Houston wit me, nigga Im talkin blow 

You suckas talkin slow, im talkin to who coppin mo 

They talkin sideways, thats what tha choppas fo' 

Sittin on them silver datins, bumpin that bigga rankin 

I blew out tha brains, fuck what them niggas thinkin 

Multi-millionaire, started wit crack crumbs 

So when you hear them glass packs, its time to act up